To Build a Home
by rae7788
Summary: When Harvey Specter took on his first case as a junior partner at Pearson Hardman, he had no idea how drastically it was going to change his life. He certainly never planned on becoming the legal guardian of 14-year-old Mike Ross...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi fellow suitors! I'm excited and nervous to begin my first multi-chaptered fic. I'm hoping to post a chapter every week or so, but I'm currently working two jobs to pay for my higher education, so real life may interfere from time to time. Hopefully everyone is relatively in character. Also I've tweaked Mike and Harvey's ages a bit- Mike is 14 and Harvey is 30 in this story. I don't know how old they are in the show, but I figure this is only off by a few years hopefully. I also don't know anything about the law, so pretend everything I say makes sense for the sake of the story. I hope you enjoy this!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Suits or any of the songs that I pull lyrics from**

**TO BUILD A HOME**

**CHAPTER 1: NOT YOUR YEAR**

_Every day it starts again_

_You cannot say if you're happy_

_You keep trying to be; try harder _

_Maybe, maybe this is not your year_

_This is not your year _

_**-**__"Not Your Year" by The Weepies_

_Fourteen, _Mike Ross decided, _is __**not **__my year. _Granted, he had only been fourteen for a few hours, but things were not exactly looking up. Instead of enjoying birthday dinner and cake with Grammy and Trevor and Jenny like he had originally planned, he was pacing around in a hospital waiting room, anxiously awaiting an update from the doctor on Grammy's wellbeing.

It was all the stupid factory's fault. Grammy really was too old to be working there— she was almost seventy years old, after all, and most of her friends had retired 5 or 10 years ago. So maybe this was really all Mike's fault, because he knew that he was the reason why Grammy was still working at said stupid factory in the first place. Providing food and clothes for a growing teenager wasn't exactly cheap, and Mike and Grammy couldn't survive on just Grammy's pension money. So Grammy had gone back to work a few years ago at the McKinnon Pharmaceutical Lab.

McKinnon Pharmaceutical was a huge corporation. They produced medical supplies and drugs and Grammy worked in the factory assembling blood pressure cuffs and stethoscopes. It was mind-numbing, menial labor but nobody else wanted to hire a seventy-year-old woman, so Grammy did it, and she did it without complaint. She was very good at letting on that it was fine and that she didn't mind working, but Mike knew that it exhausted her and couldn't help but blame himself for the way her back ached and her tired eyes strained to see at the end of the day. He felt guilty that she had begun developing arthritis in her hands from the repetitive motions the job required— her poor hands, which had worked so hard to stitch his baby blanket fourteen years ago, could barely grasp a needle properly now. And he felt terrible that instead of finding a new hobby or travelling or meeting up with her gardening club for lunch like her retired friends, she was forced to work so hard to put food on the table for him. Mike was counting down the days until he turned fifteen and could get a work permit and start contributing to their meager income. The factory didn't pay well at all, and, in Mike's opinion, they were complete assholes that were only interested in making money.

Mike shivered as he remembered the phone call he had received earlier that evening. He had gotten home from school at 3 and been waiting for Grammy to come home at 5. She was planning on making his favorite dinner for his birthday and Trevor and Jenny were going to come over for cake and ice cream to celebrate. At first he hadn't been too worried when she didn't show up at home right at 5 like she usually did. Maybe she had missed the bus she usually took or had gotten held up at work by something. But when 5:30 and then 6:00 rolled around, Mike began to grow nervous. He had been anxiously pacing around the living room while Trevor and Jenny sat on the couch and tried to convince him to calm down and stop overreacting when the phone rang and Mike's worst fears were confirmed. It was the hospital close to the factory and they were calling to tell him that Grammy had fallen at work that afternoon and they were doing x-rays on her to determine the extent of her injuries.

He had breathlessly explained the situation to Trevor and Jenny and had then sprinted the 16 blocks to the hospital where he had sat in the crowded waiting room for hours, watching as the crowd slowly dwindled and then eventually disappeared altogether as the evening dissolved into night. At about 8 a young resident had come to tell Mike that the x-rays had showed that Grammy had a badly broken hip and femur and that they were prepping her for surgery. Mike had been waiting since then, his anxious feet tapping a now-familiar rhythm on the hospital floor as he paced.

Mike raked his fingers through his untidy blond hair before collapsing into an uncomfortable waiting room chair to stare numbly at the wall, his feet aching from standing for so long. The main emotion he was feeling now was worry for Grammy, but anger also simmered very close under the surface. This accident could have been avoided completely if the factory was set up under better working conditions. He had visited Grammy at work once or twice and had seen the workshop section of the giant building that she worked in. The lights were harsh and florescent, and the room was so crowded that it was hard to maneuver around the machines. It was no wonder Grammy had fallen and broken her hip and femur in quarters that close and cramped. The machines could be dangerous, too, whether you were twenty years old or eighty. It had nothing on the awful sweatshops of the Industrial Revolution, of course, but it was still risky. It was lucky that Grammy hadn't fallen into or onto one of the machines and been killed.

He blanched at the thought of Grammy dying, and although he wasn't a religious person, he sent up a quick prayer to whatever deity that might be watching over him that Grammy would be okay. He had no clue what he would do without her— her warm laugh, her constant encouragement, and her unconditional love had all gotten him through the pain and confusion of losing his parents three years ago. She had given up so much to take care of him and had never once complained. Mike angrily swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, cursing the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. She had to be all right. She just had to, because he still needed her. He was barely fourteen, for Christ's sake. He needed someone to take care of him. And there was no way that he was going back into foster care. Not after what had happened last time.

He shuddered as the memories crashed over him in stormy waves before he could do anything to stop them. His eidetic memory, although mostly a blessing, was also a curse in many ways. While it was invaluable that all the good things in his past were immortalized in his mind with crystal clarity (his mother's clear, sweet voice singing him a lullaby or the smell of his father's aftershave and coffee on a rainy Sunday morning), there were many things that he desperately wanted to forget but simply couldn't. Like the memory of the car crash that took his parents' lives when he was 11. Or anything to do with his subsequent time spent in foster care while Child Services tried to track down his grandmother.

Mike was grateful to be distracted from his dark musings by the sudden entrance of a man who strode purposefully into the almost-vacant waiting room, looking like some kind of war general off to conference with his commander-in-chief. The newcomer wasted no time looking around; he just marched up to the front desk to talk to the nurse sitting there and Mike watched him for lack of anything better to do (besides continue to worry fiercely about Grammy). He had already read and memorized all of the magazines that the waiting room possessed in a fit of nervous energy a few hours ago.

The man was tall, trim, and athletic looking, with dark hair that had been gelled back perfectly. He seemed pretty young, probably around 30. He wore a crisply tailored three-piece suit that had probably cost the equivalent of a year's worth of groceries for Mike and Grammy. Mike immediately got the impression of intelligence and sharp-wittedness just from looking at the guy, who was currently flashing a disarming smile at the nurse. The gesture was obviously practiced— his body language practically oozed self-confidence and Mike was sure that he spent a lot of his time charming other people. Mike wondered what his occupation was and why he was in this waiting room, at this particular hospital in one of the poorer parts of New York City at 1 in the morning. Was he a doctor here? A surgeon? The latter seemed likely— Mike had heard the stereotype that surgeons tended to be extremely self-assured and somewhat arrogant.

The man's discussion with the nurse didn't seem to go as he had planned. He turned away, smiling graciously at the pretty young nurse, but Mike could see the tension in his jaw. He walked a few paces away from the desk and closer to Mike before taking out his cell phone. While the conversation at the desk had been too muffled for Mike to hear, he couldn't help but be privy to this phone call.

"Jessica, this is Harvey," the man, (who was apparently named Harvey—Mike thought that this suited him very nicely) said in an oddly soothing, rich voice. "I'm just calling to update you like you asked earlier. Look, I don't know if you knew this went you sent me here, but Mrs. Ross is in surgery right now" Harvey said, slight irritation creeping into his tone. "I feel like a vulture lurking around and waiting to pounce on her the second she comes out of the Operating Room. And the nurse won't give me any info on her because I'm not family. But don't worry; I'll sort it all out. I'll have all the paperwork on your desk by tomorrow morning, like you asked." This Harvey person must have been leaving a message, because he hung up after this, gracefully sat down across from Mike, and grabbed a finance journal from the magazine rack. He glanced at Mike briefly but didn't seem too interested in the 14-year-old's presence.

Mike, on the other hand, was now insatiably curious about the man. He stared at Harvey, his exhausted brain trying to process what he had just overheard. So this guy wanted to see Grammy? But why? He clearly didn't know her because he had referred to her as Mrs. Ross— nobody who knew her called her that; it was always Edith or Grammy. Also neither Mike nor Grammy knew anyone as rich and dignified as Harvey appeared to be.

He wondered if he should confront this Harvey character and ask him who he was and why he wanted to see Grammy. He was saved from resolving this quandary, however, when a portly middle-aged man in scrubs and a white coat entered the waiting room.

Mike leapt to his feet before the doctor even finished saying the words "family of Edith Ross?"

"Yes, that's me," Mike said, rubbing his sweaty palms together in nervous anticipation, noticing that Harvey's expression had shifted from his previous indifference. He was now eyeing Mike both curiously and calculatingly. "My name is Mike; I'm her grandson," Mike explained, focusing on the surgeon. "Is she going to be okay? How was the surgery? Can I see her?"

The doctor held up his hand to cut off Mike's rapid-fire questions. "Nice to meet you, Mike. My name is Doctor Brown. Your grandmother will be fine. Come with me and we'll talk," the doctor said, motioning for Mike to follow him behind the swinging white doors that led out of the waiting room and into the hospital itself.

"Wait!" a now-familiar voice called. Both Mike and Dr. Brown turned around to see that Harvey had stood up and was now striding over to them.

"My name is Harvey Specter," Harvey said, shaking hands with a slightly puzzled-looking Dr. Brown. "Edith Ross is my mother," he explained calmly and without any hesitation. Then he placed his arm on Mike's shoulder, as though he and Mike had known each other forever. "And this is my son, Michael."

Mike knew that his mouth had fallen open at this sudden proclamation and he was sure that his facial expression was almost cartoonish with confusion and bewilderment. Harvey's hand squeezed his shoulder in warning, jolting Mike out of his shock. Mike impulsively decided to play along with this little scheme for now until he could get the man alone and figure out what he wanted from Mike and Grammy. So he forced his jaw to close and tried to school his features into a casual, neutral expression, telling himself that this was the best way to get answers.

"Oops, _Dad._ I can't believe I almost left you in the waiting room alone," Mike said, giving a strained laugh. He hadn't said the word "dad" out loud in 3 years, and it made his something deep inside of his chest ache to say it now to this complete stranger. "I was just anxious to hear how Grammy is doing." Harvey looked slightly surprised and pleased that Mike was actually playing along.

"Well, just wait up next time. I'm worried about Grammy too" Harvey said, smiling easily. Mike dutifully nodded at this remark, fighting the urge to break into a fit of hysterical giggles at how freaking _weird _this situation was and how forced their dialogue was. Damn his exhausted brain.

Either Dr. Brown didn't notice or didn't really care that there was something blatantly off about the supposed father-son dynamic between Harvey and Mike, because he just continued leading them through the hospital hallways, beginning to talk. He probably just wanted to get this over with and go home.

"Mrs. Ross's surgery to repair her broken hip and femur was successful. We did a CT scan and found that she has a mild concussion so we'll be keeping her for a few days for observation. Unfortunately she has a very long recovery ahead of her. While she's strong for her age, it will probably take at least 3 months of constant care and physical therapy for her to be functioning independently again. I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in, but I have a list of highly recommended care facilities for you, Mr. Specter. There are some very good nursing homes in this area…" Dr. Brown kept talking, but Mike zoned out at this point, countless questions churning in his mind. _How the hell were they going to pay for Grammy's rehab? And where was he going to live for the next three months? _

"…alright, you can both go in and see her for about 10 minutes. She's on a lot of pain medication right now and just needs to rest for the next few the days. Let the nurses know if have any questions or concerns, and they can page me. I'll talk to you both later," Dr. Brown was saying as he stopped in front of room 402, where Grammy must have been assigned.

"Thank you," said Harvey, shaking hands with Dr. Brown, who nodded and left, probably to go catch up on some sleep after the intense 4-hour surgery he had just done on Grammy.

Harvey made a move as though he was about to enter Grammy's room and Mike reached out and grabbed his sleeve to stop him. He glanced down the hallway to ascertain that Dr. Brown was gone and that no errant nurses were within view.

"Alright, what the hell is going on? Who are you, why are you pretending to be my father, and what do you want with my Grammy?" Mike said harshly, stepping in front of the door protectively to block Harvey's entrance. He wasn't letting this guy anywhere near his grandmother until he knew his intentions.

Harvey backed off a bit. "Easy, kid, easy," he said in a placating tone, holding up his hands as a sign of non-aggression.

"If you don't tell me what's going on right now, I'll scream for the nurses and explain that you're not really Edith Ross's son," Mike said, refusing to be mollified. He crossed his arms defiantly and scowled as fiercely as he could.

"Alright, alright, you win. You can cut the Mr. Tough Guy act now, because you look about as frightening as an abandoned puppy. I'll explain it to you and then you'll probably _want_ to let me see your grandmother," Harvey conceded. He was anxious to talk to Mrs. Ross and just wanted to get this over with. "Don't interrupt me; this is somewhat complicated. My name is Harvey Specter, and—"

"I do not look like an abandoned puppy," Mike objected petulantly. Harvey scowled at him now, and Mike had to admit that Harvey's frown was probably a lot more intimidating than his own was.

"What did I just tell you about interrupting me?" Harvey said. "Anyways, as I was saying, my name is Harvey Specter and I'm an attorney at the Pearson Hardman law firm." Harvey paused here for dramatic effect and Mike got the idea that he was supposed to have heard of Pearson Hardman before and be suitably impressed by its reputation. He hadn't, so he just stared at Harvey blankly until Harvey mumbled something about ignorant ruffians who probably didn't even know how to read. "It's only New York City's best law firm," he explained in exasperation. "Do you know anything at all about the law?"

"I've read a few books on it here and there," Mike deflected vaguely. The truth was that he had read every single law book the local library had, but Harvey didn't need to know that. If he thought Mike was some dumb kid, he would probably tell him more.

"Yes, I'm sure you have," Harvey said, a slight edge of derision to his voice. "Anyways, the reason I'm here at almost 2 in the morning to talk to your grandmother is because my firm is putting together a case against McKinnon Pharmaceutical. They're a pretty big fish, and we're hoping to snag your grandmother as a leading witness, what with her recent accident. Apparently they didn't pass any of their safety inspections for the past 2 years but they don't want to have to tear down their factory and completely rebuild because it would be expensive and damage their reputation. They have a habit of trying to make workers look responsible for accidents when they are partially or completely the factory's fault in the first place. That way they don't have to pay insurance or workman's comp for the accidents. We think they will try to do the same thing to your grandmother; make her look like her fall was completely her fault and then she'll have to pay. The reason why I rushed over here so quickly is so that I could talk to her before McKinnon got here and tried to buy her off or stop her from testifying. One of our sources inside the factory told us about your grandmother's accident this evening and my boss sent me over here. So you can stop freaking out and let me talk to her. Because when I win this case, which I will, your grandmother will receive a healthy compensation and will never have to work again," Harvey explained as Mike listened raptly. Mike found himself inclined to believe everything Harvey said, although he didn't quite know why.

"Well then why did you say all that stuff about being…you know, my father?" Mike asked.

"The nurse at the front desk wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't family. So I just eavesdropped and used you to get back here. Look, kid, it's for your grandmother's own good, and my firm is doing this case pro bono so you don't have to worry about payment. I just wanted to get back here to talk to her before McKinnon got to her. I promise I won't tire her out or demand that she testify or anything. But if you could just let me talk to her for 10 minutes, I'll be out of your hair for awhile." Mike thought all this over quickly, still coming up with about a million questions. He zoned in on one that was particularly bothering him.

"I don't get it. What's your angle on this? You don't exactly seem like the type to do that whole champion-for-the-masses, crusading-for-rights-in-the-modern-workplace thing. You seem like someone who weighs the value of everything before they do it and I don't know what you would stand to gain by helping an old lady and her grandson to get workman's comp. You don't care about us. So what are you getting out of this deal? Why aren't you on McKinnon's side of this case where you normally would be as some hotshot corporate lawyer?" Mike puzzled, and Harvey looked somewhat taken aback by this flash of insight into the older man's character.

"I underestimated you. You might make a good lawyer someday, kid," Harvey said, and Mike fought the warm, pleased feeling that briefly ignited inside of his chest at the thought of someone thinking he had the potential to be a successful _anything_ someday, much less something prestigious like an attorney. _Answers, Mike, _he told himself. _Focus._

"You're deflecting. Answer the question or you can't talk to Grammy," Mike said firmly, pleased to be holding the leverage in this strange, twisted poker game they seemed to be playing.

"Fine. What do I get out of it? I get to be junior partner at Pearson Hardman. I was just promoted and this is my first case as junior partner. If I don't win, my boss Jessica will probably demote me. So as much as I hate pro bono work, I _will _win this case for your grandmother because I need to show Jessica and the senior partners that I'm taking this seriously." Harvey wondered if he was being too frank, but the kid seemed to accept this explanation. He was chewing fiercely on his lower lip and seeming to be engaged in an intense internal debate. Finally the kid looked up at Harvey with clear, startlingly blue eyes.

"Okay, you can talk to her. But let me go in alone for a minute first, alright? Don't tire her out. And if she's sleeping and doesn't want to talk then you're not to wake her," the kid said seriously.

Harvey rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. "Yes, Florence Nightengale," he said sarcastically. "Good luck tending to the Union Army in there." He leaned against the wall to wait as Mike opened the door to his grandmother's room.

"Actually, Florence Nightengale was a nurse in the Crimean War, not the Civil War. You're thinking of Clara Barton. Do you know anything at all about history?" Mike grinned cheekily, echoing Harvey's earlier words to him about the law. "Now stay," he instructed in a stern tone that one might use with their dog. Harvey bristled at Mike's assumption that Harvey was the puppy and not the owner in this scenario.

"Bossed around by a twelve-year-old," Harvey mumbled self-deprecatingly to himself, rolling his eyes at Mike's retreating back. "The things I do for my job."

The kid turned indignantly. "Hey, I'm fourteen, not twelve!" He exclaimed, before entering the room and leaving Harvey alone in the hallway.

"Oh, so he's fourteen. Well, now it's completely alright that he's bossing me around," Harvey muttered sardonically under his breath as he settled in to wait for his turn to talk to Mrs. Ross. He replayed his conversation with Michael in his head and found himself seized with the oddest urge to actually laugh at the banter they had exchanged. The kid was smart, all right. Harvey would give him that.

**So that's chapter 1! Let me know what you think if you have a minute. I know that it doesn't really make much sense right now, but the next chapter will have more action- I'm hoping to delve more into the case and explain what's going on more clearly. We'll also see more Mike/Harvey interaction and I'll try to get to the point and hurry up with the whole Harvey-taking-custody-of-teen!mike plotline. This chapter is just kind of setting everything up. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! I just want to thank everyone for all their kind reviews! I was not expecting such a great response when I posted the first chapter. I only hope that I can live up to all of your expectations lol. Oh, and I know that I mentioned that Helen was Grammy's first name in chapter 1, but then they revealed that it's actually Edith in this week's episode (of course right after I posted chapter one hahah) so from here on out I'm just going to use Edith. **

**CHAPTER 2: KEEP BREATHING**

_I want to change the world; instead I sleep_

_I want to believe in more than you and me_

_But all that I know is I'm breathing _

_All I can do is keep breathing_

_All we can do is keep breathing now._

_-"Keep Breathing" by Ingrid Michaelson_

"Hello, Michael. Come and sit with me, dear," Grammy called weakly when Mike entered the room, closing the door behind himself.

"Grammy! Are you okay? How do you feel?" Mike fairly shouted, rushing over and carelessly throwing himself into the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Grammy's bed.

"I'll be fine, Michael," Grammy said reassuringly, reaching for his hand. Her grip wasn't as strong as usual, but her hand was as warm and comforting as ever. "How are you?" she asked. "I'm sorry this had to happen on your birthday."

"Don't worry about me, Grammy, I'm fine. You just take care of yourself," Mike said, trying to smile convincingly at her. He felt his traitorous eyes fill with tears and blinked furiously. All of his false bravado in dealing with Harvey Specter earlier had now deserted him. He couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling exactly; a bewildering and overwhelming mixture of concern, relief, sadness, and bone-deep exhaustion. He knew that Grammy read all of this on his face because she simply reached out with her other hand and cupped his cheek, brushing away the lone tear that escaped from his eyes. Mike hated himself for being the weak one crying when it was Grammy who was injured and in pain, but she just smiled gently at him.

"I'll be okay, Michael," Grammy said. "The doctors say I'm strong for my age. Give me a few months and I'll be back on my feet. Don't worry, honey, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Mike just nodded at this, not trusting his voice. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and wiped his eyes on his sleeve quickly.

"There's a man here to see you if you feel up to it, Grammy," Mike said, abruptly changing the subject. "But I've told him he can only come in if you feel up to it. His name is Harvey Specter, and he's a lawyer. I guess he wants to use you as a witness in his case against McKinnon. He said if you helped you could win enough money to never have to work again. I think he's telling the truth but I can stay in the room with you when he's here if you want. And if you're tired you don't have to see him—"

"It's okay, Michael. Send him in, I'll be fine. The quicker I talk to him, the quicker he'll leave and the quicker I can go to sleep," Grammy said, cutting off Mike's overprotective ranting.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked. "Because you could just go to sleep now and I could make him come back tomorrow."

"Send him in, Michael. Your concern is appreciated but not needed," Grammy chuckled. "I think I can manage to stay awake another ten minutes to hear the poor man out. He probably doesn't want to be here at 2 in the morning any more than I do."

Mike was still doubtful about this whole thing but Grammy looked tired and it didn't seem like she would sleep without seeing Mr. Specter, so Mike dutifully went to fetch him, cursing his grandmother's stubbornness.

"Grammy wants to talk to you," Mike said upon opening the door to the hallway. Harvey was casually leaning up against the wall, still looking perfectly groomed and alert and ready to take on the world. Mike wondered if this guy was completely human.

"Alright. Thank you, Michael. Just give me ten minutes with her," Harvey said, and Mike nodded and watched as Harvey entered his grandmother's room and closed the door. He slid into a sitting position against the wall, leaning his head forward onto his knees. Any adrenaline he had had earlier was now completely out of his system, and he felt his heavy eyelids beginning to droop shut. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders at the knowledge that Grammy appeared to be okay, but he could feel panic rising anew when he considered the future. He pushed any thoughts of how they were going to manage these next few months of recovery out of his mind, blinking blearily. He could worry about that tomorrow. But for now, he would shut his eyes for ten seconds. Just ten seconds, and then he would get up and walk around in order to wake himself up more. Just ten seconds…

(SUITS)

Harvey Specter hated pro bono work. He had worked his ass off to get to where he was right now and he didn't see why he needed to whore himself out to work for free. Still, he desperately wanted to keep this promotion to junior partner and Jessica Pearson had made it quite clear to him that he needed to prove himself to the senior partners if he had any hope of 1. staying junior partner and 2. making senior partner someday. And Harvey Specter knew that he would be senior partner someday. It was just a matter of time. So for now he needed to brownnose a little bit and do what Jessica asked of him. He could get back to his unorthodox, outside-the-box litigation methods once this McKinnon Pharmaceutical mess was over.

He reassured himself of all of this as he opened the door to Edith Ross's hospital room. Her grandson Michael was still frowning dubiously at him from the hallway, so Harvey simply shut the door behind himself, shaking his head and trying not to smirk at the kid's over-protectiveness.

"Hello, you must be Harvey Specter," an elderly woman lying a hospital bed said. Her voice was quiet and slightly strained but still clear.

"Yes, please call me Harvey, Mrs. Ross," Harvey said smoothly, smiling as charmingly as he could at 2 in the morning.

"Nice to meet you, Harvey. Please call me Edith," Edith Ross said. "And you can cut that smile, my grandson tries it all the time and it never works on me."

Harvey couldn't help but think tentatively that Mrs. Ross didn't seem as bad as most of the other people he had done pro bono work for so far. For one, she wasn't crying; she wasn't flirting with him, and actually seemed like a well-educated, kind woman.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Edith," Harvey said. "I know a lawyer is probably the last person you want to see in your hospital room in the middle of the night."

"Well, I figure you must be all right if you made it past my grandson Mike. He's a pretty good judge of character and very overprotective of me," Edith said, smiling fondly at Harvey. Apparently if Mike approved, Edith did too.

"He seems like, uh, a very nice boy," Harvey said, trying to sound genuine. He didn't like children. He didn't like complimenting children.

Edith didn't seem to notice this however. "He is a very nice boy," she sighed mournfully. "But this is all so hard on him. Ever since he lost his parents a few years ago, he's been so concerned that I'll up and die on him any day now."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Harvey said politely. "That must be very hard on you," he said, trying to empathize.

"Yes, it is," Edith said, a far-off look in her eyes. "Not a day goes by that I don't miss my son and daughter-in-law. A parent should never have to bury their child. But I think it's harder on Michael. An eleven-year-old should never have to bury their parents, after all. But what can you do? You just have to keep breathing and keep living and hope it gets better."

Harvey decided right then and there that he liked Edith Ross. She was nice, gave good life advice, and that tragic back story would be sure to sway any jury.

"Anyways, enough about me and my sob story. What can I help you with, dear? Mike said something about a trial?" Edith asked.

"Yes," Harvey said, reaching into his briefcase for a file. He opened the folder and cleared his throat. "Edith, did you ever work with someone named George Stanopoulos?"

"Well, I didn't work with him exactly. He was in a different assembly line than I was. But I've heard of him. I don't think he works at McKinnon anymore, though. I haven't heard anyone mention his name for over a year, now that I think about it," Edith replied pensively.

"How about someone named Maria Santiago?" Harvey asked.

"Why, yes, yes of course I remember Maria. She was a very nice young woman from Puerto Rico. But come to think of it, she also disappeared about 6 months ago. Where are you going with this?" Edith asked.

"Both of them were quietly let go from McKinnon after they were injured on the job. George broke his wrist and hand when a conveyer belt broke and Maria cut herself on a piece of rusty metal and almost died from a resulting infection. Both of them were paid off by McKinnon to keep quiet, but George came forward a few months ago and told my boss, Jessica Pearson, what happened. Apparently they went to high school together and he knew she would help him. Anyways, we looked into it and discovered that McKinnon actually didn't pass the state safety inspections the past 2 years. I guess their profits are down, and they knew that if word got out that their factories were an unsafe environment, it would damage their reputation and call their product quality into question," Harvey explained.

"And that wouldn't make the shareholders very happy," Edith surmised.

Harvey nodded. "Exactly. We subtly looked into their financials and discovered that they're going to be bankrupt pretty soon unless the market takes a sudden upswing. They're just trying to hold on as long as possibly by buying off injured employees so that none of this gets out. And we're trying to stop them, for the sake of the employees."

"And where do I come into this exactly?" Edith asked.

"I would bet my favorite Ferrari that a lawyer from McKinnon will be here first thing tomorrow morning offering you money to keep quiet about all of this. If you don't comply, you'll lose your job. It's as simple as that. They won't be able to say they fired you for not taking their bribe, of course, but they'll find some empty excuse to get rid of you. Even if you do comply, you'll probably still lose your job. They just want to move on and get rid of any evidence before someone blabs," Harvey told Edith seriously. She looked tired but was clearly taking all of this in stride.

"So you want me to listen to their offer and then report back to you. And then you want me to testify at your trial against them," Edith deduced shrewdly.

"Yes. I know that's a lot to ask, but it's the best way to ensure that McKinnon goes down. Their shareholders and the general public deserve to know that they've been lying about their product quality for the past two years. And you deserve compensation for your injury. We're talking millions of dollars when we win this case. Think about how much better your grandson's life would be then," Harvey was trying to get Edith to focus on Mike, who was clearly her weak spot.

"I'll have to consider it, Harvey," Edith said, and Harvey felt his stomach clench in concern at her obvious doubt. He had promised Jessica that he would nail this case.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you need to consider? Is there anything I can do that would make this easier for you?" Harvey asked, silently praying that it would be something easily fixable.

"I just need a day or two to think all of this over, Mr. Specter," Edith explained firmly but not unkindly. "I need to consider what's in Mike's best interests primarily, and he's already in for a rough few months ahead of him. I don't know where he's going to stay while I'm in the rehab facility, and he had a terrible experience in foster care a few years ago. I'm sure one of the doctors will probably already have contacted child services—"

But Harvey never got to hear the rest of what she was going to say about child services and foster care because the door opened and Dr. Brown walked in.

"Hello, Mr. Specter, Mrs. Ross," he said. Edith looked confused as to why Dr. Brown knew Harvey. "I just came to check your vitals before my shift on call ends," he said, checking the various wires and machines that were surrounding and attached to Edith.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Ross? If you feel a lot of pain, you can press this button to administer more morphine through the IV drip," Dr. Brown said.

"Thank you, doctor, I'm fine. How do you know Harvey here?" Edith asked curiously and Harvey resisted the urge to groan out loud at this unfortunate development.

"How do I know Harvey? Oh, your son was waiting for you in the waiting room this evening when I finished the surgery. He brought your grandson, too. Seemed like a really nice kid. Mike, was it?" Dr. Brown said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the confusion on Edith's face and the dismay on Harvey's.

"Yes, Mike," Edith confirmed, staring straight at Harvey.

"Speaking of Mike, the kid's asleep in the hallway. Looks pretty uncomfortable to me, but I'm sure he was exhausted. I don't think he'll be up in time for school tomorrow, Mr. Specter!" Dr. Brown chortled before saying goodbye and departing from the hospital room, leaving Harvey and Edith alone. Harvey, though he had graduated Harvard near the top of his class and was a corporate attorney at New York's best law firm, felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar under the fixed, matronly gaze of Mrs. Ross.

"So I have a son named Harvey Specter, do I?" Edith asked sternly, but Harvey thought he saw a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I lied but they wouldn't give me any information since I wasn't family," Harvey confessed, suitably chastised. To his surprise Edith laughed outright at this.

"I like you, Harvey Specter. You do things outside of the box, don't you?" She asked, staring at him with an odd intensity. "And Mike went along with this whole thing?" Her tone changed and Harvey could see the wheels in her head turning like she had just had some great epiphany, but he had no idea what she was thinking about.

"Well, he was pretty reluctant. But I'm pretty good at my job, which is convincing people to do what I need them to do," Harvey smirked.

"Alright," Edith said somewhat abruptly. "I need a day or two to figure out some logistics, but if you come back then I'll have a definite answer for you about whether or not I'll do the trial. I'll document all offers by McKinnon in the meantime." She looked thoughtful. "Your lie may actually have done Mike and I a huge favor. If you hadn't said you were his father I'm sure Dr. Brown would have called child services already to find someone to take Mike in for the time-being. So thank you for buying us some time on that front."

Harvey could sense that there was more to the foster care issue than met the eye but decided not to pursue the matter further. Mrs. Ross had just pressed the morphine button and looked about a minute away from falling asleep. "Okay. Here's my information if you want to contact me. If not I'll see you in a few days. Thanks for your time," Harvey said, handing her a business card and bidding her farewell at that. He had learned to pick his battles and he could tell that the exhausted, pain-riddled Mrs. Ross wasn't going to commit to anything tonight without giving it more consideration. He also didn't know why she had that scheming look in her eyes as he left the room, but he couldn't help but fear that she was planning something that he wouldn't like at all.

As he entered the hallway, he almost tripped over Mike, who was now curled up in a ball on the floor. The kid was sound asleep, his face completely relaxed and free of tension. Harvey couldn't help but think that he seemed much younger than fourteen. He looked uncomfortable, all twisted up like that on the cold, hard linoleum floor of the hospital. Harvey didn't know why, but something made him reach out and shake the kid's shoulder.

"Michael," he said gruffly. "C'mon and wake up, Michael. Your neck will thank me tomorrow."

Mike suddenly shot into a sitting position, his blue eyes darting around furiously. "Where am I?" He gasped raspily. "Grammy?"

"Relax, kid. It's Harvey Specter. You fell asleep on the hospital floor and it looked like your neck was about to snap in half laying like that," Harvey explained. He intended for this to sound condescending and superior (because really, who falls asleep on the floor in the middle of a hallway?), but it actually came out in a much gentler tone than he had expected. He told himself that he was just trying to keep the kid happy so that his grandmother would testify. That was it.

"Oh… thanks, Mr. Specter," Mike said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Is Grammy awake?"

"Well, your grandmother _was_ awake. But it didn't look like she'd be up for much longer. Can I give you a ride home, Michael?" He asked before he was aware of the words leaving his mouth. He wasn't sure why he was offering. But then he reminded himself that he was just trying to make Michael happy so Edith would help him. And if the kid tried to walk home and got mugged in the process, Edith wouldn't be happy. That was all.

"You can call me Mike," the kid offered. "And I don't want a ride home, thanks. I'll just sleep here tonight."

"Okay, suit yourself," Harvey shrugged. After all, it wasn't like he cared if Mike got a stiff neck sleeping on the floor or in a hospital chair. He bid the kid goodnight and turned down the hallway, excited to finally go home and crash for a few hours. He would have to be up by six, but that was okay. He was used to surviving on next to no sleep.

He told himself later that this lack of sleep was what caused him to stop by the nurse's station and ask them to wheel a cot into Mrs. Ross's room for her grandson to sleep on. It wasn't like he cared, anyways. He was Harvey Specter. He didn't get emotionally invested in his work. And he didn't care about any of his clients, especially not smart-aleck fourteen-year-olds (no matter how much they might have reminded him of his younger brother.)

(SUITS)

It had been 2 days since Harvey had met Edith Ross in the middle of the night at the hospital and he was ready to explode. He had been determinedly avoiding Jessica for the duration of said 2 days and it was taking a toll on him. He wasn't used to lying to his mentor, but Daniel Hardman was breathing down the back of Jessica's neck again and Harvey knew she couldn't afford to mess around. Hardman would take the case on himself and then force Jessica to take Harvey's promotion away if he didn't get Mrs. Ross to testify. It was putting Harvey on edge. He knew that Hardman was up to something suspicious lately and he swore that he would eventually figure out what the man had done and use it against him to protect Jessica's position as number 1 in the firm.

In the interest of protecting both his job and Jessica's, when Jessica had asked him the morning after the hospital visit if he had secured Edith Ross as a client, well, he might have half-lied and told her that yes, she had agreed to testify. But it was for Jessica's own good. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and he would, of course, get Edith Ross to testify eventually. He was already the best closer among the associates and junior partners and he was even better than some of the senior partners. So it would all be fine. Or at least it would be once Harvey visited Mrs. Ross again and convinced her to testify.

Since it had been two days, Harvey figured it would be appropriate for him to pay Mrs. Ross a visit at the hospital without seeming too desperate. She hadn't contacted him, but Harvey was tired of sitting around and pretending to be in complete control of the situation. His Type A personality couldn't handle sitting back and relaxing when there was work to be done. He needed to get out and actually do something proactive, so he had called her last night and set up an appointment for 4:00 today.

As he was preparing to leave his office for the hospital, his secretary Donna came in holding a cup of hot coffee. Donna had been with him for a few years (ever since his time at the DA's office) and Harvey couldn't remember how he had ever survived without her. She juggled all of his scheduling conflicts like a complete pro and somehow knew everything about everyone at Pearson Hardman. Including Harvey, actually. It was almost frightening how much she knew about him, in fact. Like what type of music he liked to listen to. Or the fact that he had a younger brother who lived in Chicago. Or exactly how he liked his coffee. And the weird thing was that he hadn't actually told her any of this information. She just knew it all somehow.

Marveling at Donna's prowess at, well, everything, Harvey reached out to accept the cup of coffee from her before he felt the scalding hot liquid splash him.

"Ow! Jesus, Donna, that hurt!" He growled in frustration. His tie was ruined now and the coffee was spilt on the floor.

"Oops, sorry Harvey!" Donna exclaimed, sounding a bit too innocent. Harvey frowned at her.

"Did you just dump coffee on me on purpose?" He asked incredulously.

"Now why would I do that?" Donna asked reproachfully, but still a bit too matter-of-factly for Harvey's liking. Harvey squinted at her. He had always had a gift for reading people's body language but sometimes women completely baffled him. Something weird was going on here but he didn't know what.

"Well, I'm sorry that your tie got ruined but fortunately I have an extra one for you in my desk for emergencies," Donna continued with exaggerated innocence and Harvey rolled his eyes.

"So you spilled coffee on me because you don't want me to wear this tie? What's wrong with this tie? And why does it even matter, I'm just going to meet an old lady at the hospital," Harvey asked in bewilderment. He firmly believed that appearance was everything, but he didn't think Mrs. Ross would care about the simple navy and gray-striped tie he had been wearing. He thought it was quite nice, actually. His new tailor Rene had picked it out for him. He was still staring at his ruined tie as Donna crossed to her desk where she reached in a drawer and pulled out a lavender tie.

"Donna," Harvey said firmly. "I am not wearing a lavender tie out in public."

"Yes, you are. Mrs. Ross will love it," Donna said in a tone that clearly said _don't-even-think-about-arguing-with-me-mister_. "Now go or you'll be late for your meeting."

And so Harvey showed up to his meeting with Mrs. Ross wearing a lavender tie and feeling like an idiot. Lavender had been his mother's favorite color, and after she had walked out on their family when Harvey was ten and his brother Paul was four, it had become Paul's favorite color and still was twenty years later. Harvey hated it. He harbored nothing but anger and negative emotions towards his mother, who had walked out on her sons and husband like a coward when things got rough. But Paul, who had always been kinder and more easy-going than Harvey, loved the color and had forgiven their mother. He said it was a reminder of the few good times he could remember spending with her as a child. Although Paul never wore lavender, the color still always made Harvey think of his little brother.

"Hello, Harvey. Your tie is a lovely color," Edith Ross said by way of greeting when Harvey entered her hospital room. "It shows your softer side. Not many men are confident enough in their sexuality to wear that color, and I applaud you for it."

Harvey bit back a groan and fought the urge to go back to Pearson Hardman and strangle Donna with the lavender tie (which he would never actually do because it would be like cutting off his right hand if he killed Donna, not to mention the fact that he suspected she could probably kick his ass in a physical confrontation). "Thank you, Edith," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm doing better. It's not too painful unless I try to move around. It's Michael that I'm concerned about, frankly. I sent him home to shower and eat about an hour or two ago, but he's barely left my side besides that these past 2 days," Edith sighed. "But he'll be alright."

The two of them made polite conversation for a few minutes before Harvey couldn't take it anymore and jumped into the real topic at hand. "Edith, have you given any more thought to what we talked about the other night?"

Edith smiled. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me. Yes, I've given quite a bit of thought to it and I think I've come up with a solution that will please everybody. But first, I wanted to tell you that you were right about McKinnon. They sent one of their lawyers to the hospital the morning after my accident and offered me $100,000 dollars to keep all of this quiet. I told him I would think about it and let him know."

"$100,000 dollars might sound like a lot, but that probably will just barely cover your hospital bills and rehabilitation costs," Harvey said.

"I know, I was doing the math last night. It would be very tight with just $100,000. My insurance coverage isn't very good and there's rent to pay and food to put on the table for Michael," Edith said.

"So you'll testify?" Harvey asked, trying not to sound desperately hopeful. He silently prayed that she would just say yes so that he wouldn't have to find some way to strong-arm her into doing it. She was such a nice lady and he really only wanted to help. Well, all he really wanted to do was win this case, but helping her could be an added bonus.

"Yes. Yes, I'll testify. But I'll only do it if you agree to take custody of Michael until the trial is over and I'm back on my feet. Those are my terms," Edith said, looking very pleased with herself for her idea.

"You want me to do _what?" _Harvey exclaimed incredulously, letting out strangled laugh. He felt as though he had just been clubbed over the head with a blunt object. This was the furthest thing from what he was expecting Edith to say, and he was genuinely surprised for the first time in a long time.

"You heard me. I want you to take custody of Michael for the next few months. I don't want him getting lost in the system, so I'm putting him with someone I know," Edith explained patiently, as though Harvey were about six years old.

"But you don't actually know me! I could be a murderer, or a drunk, or—"

Edith cut off Harvey's panic rambling. "Well, I might not know you that well, but my neighbor visited me here yesterday. He's a retired cop and I had him look into you. You came up completely clean; not even a speeding ticket. So you're not a murderer. And I had a very nice chat with a lovely young woman named Donna this morning when I called your office to make an appointment. I believe she's your secretary? Anyways, she was a very good character witness and told me all sorts of things about you."

"Donna _knew_ about this?" Harvey said, and he suddenly understood why Donna had made him wear the lavender tie. She wanted him to appear softer and probably somehow magically knew the color reminded him of his brother. She also probably wanted to have a good laugh about this whole thing at his expense. Still thinking of Donna and vowing he would get revenge on her, he looked back at Edith and decided that he really did not understand women at all.

"Look, Edith, I'm really flattered that you think I would be an appropriate guardian for Mike, but I don't think I'm the right man for the job. I work 70 or 80 hours a week, and I don't know anything about kids. I'll be honest with you, I don't even particularly like kids. How about I try to find him a nice family to stay with instead? Will you testify if I find him a good placement?" Harvey said, trying to regain control of this ridiculous situation.

But Edith was resolute. "No. I'm sorry, Harvey, but this is all or nothing. I think you might be just what Michael needs in his life. He's getting older and needs a strong male role model for his teen years. I'm afraid his friend Trevor is going to lead him astray unless he has some more positive influences in his life."

_Why don't you just sign him up for the god damn Big Brother program, then? _Harvey wanted to snap, but he controlled himself. "Why are you so against foster care?" he asked instead.

Edith sighed and seemed to age before his eyes at this question. "It's all my fault, really. When Michael's parents, Marianne and Peter, died in a car crash three years ago, my husband was dying of end-stage pancreatic cancer and I was his main caregiver. We lived upstate, in the middle of nowhere and it was very hard to keep in contact with the real world. I heard the news and was completely devastated of course. My husband was quickly fading and my son and daughter-in-law had suddenly died. It was…unimaginably painful," she said, her eyes dark with sorrow.

"I didn't know what to do," she continued. "I wanted to take Michael in, of course, but I couldn't with my husband so sick. I was led to believe that Marianne's sister would be taking Michael until my husband passed away and I could take him, but she had three young children of her own and passed him off to child services without telling me. She was always quite a selfish witch. Anyways, Michael got placed with a family and it wasn't good. He never talks about it, but they were cruel to him, both verbally and physically. I don't think they beat him, but I know that the foster father used the belt once and slapped him around a bit. They were very strict and harsh people, and didn't provide any of the support that a grieving eleven-year-old needs. It took me months to track him down after my husband died and years to repair the damage after. I will always regret the four months that Michael spent in foster care and I promised both him and myself that it would never happen again. Michael doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve any of the terrible things that have happened to him," Edith finished passionately, her voice quavering, and Harvey was suddenly struck with uncharacteristic sympathy for this poor woman and her grandson.

"Alright, I'll do it," Harvey heard himself say before he could take it back.

"Oh, thank you, Harvey," Edith said, beaming genuinely at him. "It shouldn't be very hard. He's fourteen, after all, and can take care of himself. He just needs a bit of support and guidance. You'll do a marvelous job. Donna said she would draw up all the custody papers and have them ready for you to sign after this meeting." Harvey wanted to groan. So both Donna and Mrs. Ross had been certain beforehand that he would take the kid in? What had happened to his reputation as an emotionless corporate lawyer?

Still, this was the only way for him to get Mrs. Ross to testify and keep his job. And it wasn't going to be so bad, right? Mike didn't seem like he would be too annoying, and he did seem awfully independent. Maybe this wouldn't be _so _terrible, he told himself.

Just then the door opened and Mike himself entered the hospital room, holding a sandwich, his hair damp from his shower. _Speak of the devil, _Harvey thought, noticing that the kid looked exhausted.

"Hi, Grammy, I'm back," he said before noticing Harvey. "Oh, hi, Mr. Specter. How's it going?" The kid wrinkled his nose at Harvey then, taking a bite of his sandwich. "No offense, but that's a really stupid tie, Mr. Specter," he said, pointing at the offending lavender silk. Harvey groaned and changed his mind. _He was so screwed._

**So that's chapter 2, hope you enjoyed it! Sorry that there wasn't much Harvey-Mike interaction in this one, but there should be plenty from here on out now that the situation is completely set up. Hopefully I'll get around to posting chapter 3 sometime this coming week. Also just a quick note- hopefully Harvey seems relatively in-character, but I'm also trying to write him more like the 30-year-old he is in this story. So he'll still be a sarcastic bad-ass and everything, but he's not so invincible and uncaring yet. Just so you guys know, in case he seems ooc or something. ****Anyways, thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! I thought I'd upload this now since there's no new episode this week (not that this is as even close to being as awesome as a new episode lol). But anway, one brilliant and wise anonymous reviewer pointed out that I had completely left out Harvey's stint at the DA and that Donna was there with him at the DA's- therefore why did I say she was only with Harvey for a few weeks? Well, the answer to that is that I was being an idiot and completely forgot Donna was with Harvey at the DA's, which is pretty important plot information. I clearly need to stop writing this in the middle of the night. But anway I've gone back to chapter 2 and changed one sentence, and basically now it just says that Donna had been with Harvey for a few years ever since his time at the DA. It doesn't really change the plot at all but it would drive me crazy if I didn't fix it. So if I continue to mess up obvious plot information, please tell me haha. Sorry for the long note and on to chapter 3, which is rife with fun Mike/Harvey awkwardness and miscommunication.**

**Chapter 3: Cough Syrup**

_Life's too short to even care at all_

_I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control_

_These fishes in the sea, they're staring at me_

_A wet world aches for a beat of a drum_

_I'm waiting for this cough syrup to go down_

_From "Cough Syrup" by Young the Giant_

"You want me to do _what_?" Harvey winced as he heard Mike shouting through the thin hospital walls. It had been a week since Edith's accident and she was being released from the hospital and into a rehabilitation center today. She had called Donna yesterday (the two of them were apparently new best friends after their lengthy phone conversation the other day dissecting the finer details of Harvey's character and personality) and asked Donna to tell Harvey to come pick Mike up at 5:00 today. And apparently Edith had waited until 4:57 (the present time) to tell Mike that he was moving in with Harvey for the next few months.

Mike was still shouting and Harvey couldn't make out the exact words but he thought he heard "this isn't fair!" which was a sentiment that he himself happened to share quite strongly with Mike. None of this was fair. But Harvey was the adult in this situation, so he couldn't go around shouting at injured old women. But he supposed Mike could get away with it and found himself silently cheering the kid on.

He wandered away to find a cup of coffee, figuring he'd let Edith deal with this tantrum. After all, she was the one insisting on this arrangement and Harvey's custodial duties didn't start for another 3 minutes. Let her deal with the angry teenager.

As he headed down to the cafeteria, he reviewed his mental checklist of things he needed to do before Mike moved in one last time. Donna had been having a ball with this whole situation the past few days and had bought him several books on raising children and child psychology. Harvey had staunchly refused to touch any of them, so Donna had instead taken to shouting random tidbits of parenting information and advice at him over the intercom every hour or so during the workday.

Most of it was complete nonsense that made Harvey want to jump out of his office window, ranging from "starve a cold and feed a fever, Harvey," to "the frontal lobe of the teenage brain isn't fully developed yet. Expect impulsiveness and poor decision-making," and worst of all, "Mike's only fourteen and he hasn't had a father figure around for a few years. You'll probably have to have _The Talk_ with him, Harvey" (Harvey had gotten up and unplugged the intercom after this last comment). But overall, Donna had had some valid points in her advice. There were a lot of things he needed to buy, apparently. Like real food (he pretty much lived on take-out) and toiletries. And a bed, too. He had moved all of his stuff out of his mostly unused office to make a makeshift bedroom and had had a simple bed delivered yesterday. The kid would only be there for a few months, so there wasn't much point in going all out and getting rid of all of his office furniture. Most of it was now tucked away in Harvey's spacious bedroom.

_Only a few months. _This had become Harvey's mantra the past few days whenever he felt overwhelmed by the situation. It wasn't like he was Mike's father, after all. He just had to make sure the kid stayed alive for the next three months and then he never had to think about this whole mess ever again.

As he rode the elevator back up to Edith's floor, he checked his watch and groaned. 5:05. It was official; he was now Michael Ross's legal guardian.

(SUITS)

Mike was not pleased about this situation, to say the least. He had spent the first five minutes after Grammy broke the news to him pacing and ranting. That had lasted until he had chanced a glance at his grandmother and instantly lost steam and caved upon seeing her remorseful expression.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I know that this will be hard for you, but Harvey is a good man. I waited to tell you because I knew you would freak out and overthink it. It won't be like last time—" Grammy began to say upon seeing that Mike was calming down, but Mike cut her off as another wave of frustration swept over him. He knew he sounded like such a stereotypical teenager right now, but he hated the fact that he had no real control over his life.

"I don't want to talk about last time, Grammy! I'm fine; it was a long time ago. And anyway, how do you know it'll be so much better this time around? What if it's not?" He said, his volume rising back up dangerously close to a shout.

"Michael," Grammy said, her tone placating. It reminded him of when she used to babysit for him when he was 4 or 5 and he would cry at night for his parents and she would soothe him. "Take a deep breath. _It will be okay_. And if it's not for some reason, then you can come and tell me and we'll figure something else out. I know you can take care of yourself, but you're only fourteen and you shouldn't have to face everything alone. Not to mention that the state would never let me keep custody of you if they found out that I let you just live at our apartment alone for three months. Trust me on this; it'll all work out. You just need to get through my recuperation and then this whole mess will be over."

Mike worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before sighing and nodding at Grammy in weary resignation. He would go and live with Harvey Specter, but he didn't have to be happy about it. _Just three months. _Then he could go back to life as usual and try to convince his eidetic memory to forget about all of this.

No sooner had Mike resigned himself to the decision of living with Harvey Specter when Harvey Specter himself entered the hospital room.

"Hello, Edith, Mike," Harvey said with a forced sort of cheeriness that clearly belied the fact that he also had misgivings about this whole situation. Mike found himself strangely reassured by this. He didn't want Harvey to be all gung-ho about this and try to become some weird surrogate parent to him because he definitely didn't want or need that. If Harvey felt awkward about this too, maybe he would just leave Mike alone and they could both get through these next few months with a minimal amount of tiptoeing around one another and forced conversation.

"Hi," Mike said inanely in response.

"Harvey! Nice to see you," Grammy said as though oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mike's all ready to leave. The rehabilitation center is sending someone to get me in about an hour. And no, Michael, you do not need to stay and help me—" Grammy said upon seeing Mike open his mouth to protest "— the nurses and rehab staff will make sure I don't get jostled or move too much. It's their job, after all, dear."

Mike closed his mouth because there was really nothing he could say to that. He suddenly had an odd feeling of dread in his stomach, like how he had felt when he said goodbye to his parents the first time he slept over at Trevor's house when he was 8. "Alright, then. Bye, Grammy," he said quietly. He hated himself for feeling this nervous— he was fourteen and it wasn't like he couldn't sleep without his Grammy there or something. It's just that this was all happening so fast.

Grammy, of course, read all of this on Mike's face. She beckoned him over and he hugged her tightly but gingerly, careful not to exacerbate her hip and leg. Harvey was staring fixedly out the window on his behalf, so Mike gratefully allowed himself to relax into the embrace for a brief moment before straightening up and coughing to try and get rid of the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat.

"Goodbye, Michael. Give me a day or two to get settled in the rehab center and then come by and visit whenever you want, okay? Behave for Harvey, now, dear" Grammy said.

"Alright," Mike said and then he turned to Harvey. "Let's go," he said abruptly, wanting to remove himself from this emotionally volatile environment as quickly as possible before he did something embarrassing like cry.

"Goodbye, Edith. I hope your recovery goes smoothly and I'll be stopping by sometime in the next couple of weeks to talk about your deposition," Harvey said in farewell. Mike gave Grammy a final wave and then followed Harvey outside into the hallway and then downstairs to Harvey's car. Neither of them said anything during the uncomfortably long elevator ride down to the parking garage.

Mike broke the silence when Harvey led him to a sleek designer sports car that looked ridiculously expensive. _"That's _your car?" He exclaimed, wincing as his words echoed loudly in the empty parking garage.

"No, it's not mine. I try to steal a different car at least once a week," Harvey deadpanned, unlocking the doors, and Mike rolled his eyes as he clambered into the passenger seat.

"We'll just stop by your apartment on the way to mine so you can get your stuff," Harvey said. Mike nodded and gave him the address. They drove in silence and Mike tried to fight the feeling of shame rising in him as they drove through the sketchy surrounding neighborhood to get to the less-than-impressive looking apartment building that Mike and Grammy lived in. If this was the kind of car Harvey drove then Mike couldn't even imagine what his apartment was going to be like. It would probably be bigger than the White House or something. Harvey didn't say anything when Mike pointed out which building was his, but he saw the older man's eyebrows rise marginally.

"Er… you should probably just wait here. I'll be quick," Mike said.

"Okay," Harvey said. "Are you going to need help carrying stuff?"

"No, I'll be fine. You, uh, definitely don't want to leave this nice of a car alone around here for too long," Mike confessed and hurried away before Harvey could react to this statement. He didn't want to see the rich lawyer's disdain for Mike and Grammy's lifestyle. Whatever. Grammy worked hard to provide for them and did the best she could and that was nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself.

Mike jogged up the three flights of stairs as quickly as he could (the elevator seldom worked, of course) and let himself into the apartment. It was a complete mess— he had been spending most of his time at the hospital or school the past few days and hadn't had time to clean or wash the dishes. Ignoring the mess, he headed to his bedroom where he quickly threw together a duffel bag filled with jeans, t-shirts, and flannels. He grabbed his backpack, which contained everything he would need for school, and shoved a couple of his favorite books in it. Finally he grabbed the two framed pictures that sat on his bedside table— one was of him and Grammy taken on Mike's twelfth birthday and the other was of nine-year-old Mike and his parents smiling in front of the Christmas tree. He wrapped the pictures in his favorite hoodie and tucked the bundle in the duffel bag.

Mike took one last glance around the apartment to make sure that there was nothing that could possibly be a fire hazard if left unattended for three months while he and Grammy were gone. He knew that he should probably tell the landlord that they weren't going to be around much for awhile, but then word would get out that they weren't there and the apartment would probably get broken into. Mike locked the door and headed back downstairs, hardly believing that he was really leaving to go live with someone else for three months.

He climbed back into the car and tossed the duffel bag and backpack onto the back seat. Harvey looked like he wanted to say something but refrained. Mike wondered if it was about the crappy apartment or the way that he had carelessly thrown things in the expensive car but didn't ask. They drove to Harvey's apartment in silence, other than the noise from Harvey's weird musical selections.

The contrast between Mike and Grammy's apartment and Harvey's apartment was so ridiculous that Mike had to fight a laugh when the pulled up to Harvey's building. It was exactly like everything he had seen of Harvey's thus far: sleek, modern, classy, and probably incredibly expensive.

He followed behind Harvey, trying to keep his mouth from dropping in shock at how lavish the place was. The foyer alone contained more nice things than Mike had ever seen in one place in his entire life— a chandelier, fancy furniture, and a concierge desk. He lagged behind, struggling with his heavy duffel bag and backpack until Harvey sighed and wordlessly pulled the duffel bag from his arms and proceeded to carry it like it weighed no more than a feather.

Harvey used a key to unlock the door to a glass elevator and they rode up in silence, which seemed to be developing into a trend for them: awkwardly silent elevator rides. To Mike's utter shock, the elevator took them directly inside of Harvey's apartment. He laughed incredulously. "You have a personal elevator? Why am I not surprised?"

He wandered around the place, taking in the futuristic-looking appliances and furniture that looked too expensive to use or sit on. Several questions popped into his head that he wanted to ask Harvey: _How much money do you make? Do you ever actually use any of this stuff? _And most pressingly, _Are you sure you're completely human? _

He settled instead on the much less offensive "So where will I be crashing? The couch?"

Harvey cast him a look of mild disdain, as though the idea of someone actually sleeping on a couch was offensively common and pedestrian. "No, you'll be 'crashing' in the office over here," he said, and Mike had a sudden vision of himself sleeping in a desk chair, surrounded by books and stacks of paper and files. He smirked at this. He wouldn't put it past Harvey to make him sleep on top of a mahogany desk. Harvey himself probably slept on an oak one, so that he could be close to his work all the time.

"Something funny?" Harvey asked upon seeing Mike's expression.

"No, I was just reveling in the aura of homey comfort that this place exudes," Mike said with a straight face. "What nice pictures you have of all your friends and family," he continued, staring at the creepy modern art on the walls.

"I prefer the term 'quaint,' actually," Harvey said, equally as serious. Mike snorted at this and watched as Harvey opened the door to the office. Mike was surprised to see how simple it was— just a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a couple of bookshelves filled with law books that Mike was already itching to get his hands on.

"Wow, thanks, Mr. Specter. This is nice," Mike said, because it really was a lot more spacious and open than his room at home. And a lot cleaner, too. And he was willing to bet his beloved bicycle that he wouldn't have to spend half the night listening to babies crying, drunks shouting, and people having sex through the apartment walls here.

"Feel free to use that computer if you want, I've got my own laptop," Harvey said, pointing to the monitor sitting on the desk. "And, um, you can just call me Harvey if you want," he offered somewhat awkwardly. Mike nodded but didn't think he'd ever really feel comfortable enough to call the older man Harvey.

"Thanks," he said. "Thanks for everything, I mean. I'm sure my Grammy had to back you into a corner to get you to take me in, but I really do appreciate you doing it. She probably told you this already, but I'm kind of wary about the whole foster care thing so it's nice to be somewhere where I can visit Grammy really often," Mike rambled quickly, feeling better once he had gotten all of this gratitude off his chest. He didn't want Harvey to view him as a charity case.

Harvey just nodded. "You can get settled in if you want. Bathroom's down the hall. I'll order us a pizza," and with that he disappeared and left Mike alone. Mike collapsed on the bed, which to his delight was very comfy. He just lay for a minute, taking everything in and trying to process all that had happened.

It took him about an hour to unpack everything, mostly because he spent at least 30 minutes staring out the window at the incredible view of the city. When he finally emerged from the office, Harvey was just pulling out plates and slicing a fresh, steaming deep dish pizza.

"This doesn't look like real pizza" Mike said, sitting down and taking a piece. The sauce was on top and the cheese was buried underneath.

"This _is_ real pizza. All thin crust pizza is merely imitating real pizza," Harvey replied, offering no further explanation.

"You're from Chicago, aren't you?" Mike deduced with a laugh. "Do you like the Cubs or the Sox?" Upon seeing Harvey's dark expression he sobered slightly. "Right. You clearly don't want to talk about your past. Got it."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. "It's really good. The pizza, I mean," Mike offered after awhile.

Harvey stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher and then came back and sat down, looking serious. "Look, Mike, I think we should lay out some ground rules so that we both know what to expect from one another in the next few months. If any of this sounds unreasonable, let me know now, okay?" Mike nodded in affirmation. He put his pizza down and rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. This talk would determine the tone of the next few months. Mike didn't really think Harvey would ever hit him or use corporal punishment, but he wanted to know just how strict the older man would be. After all, the Jensen family hadn't seemed too bad when they had first taken him in 3 years ago and look how that had turned out. It was best to be prepared just in case.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Harvey asked, catching Mike by surprise. He nodded and obediently pulled out his cracked, ancient flip phone but clutched it in his hand uncertainly, unwilling to put it down on the table. Was Harvey going to take it away from him?

"Relax, it's not like I want your phone," Harvey said in exasperation as if reading Mike's mind. "Does that thing even work?" Mike opened his mouth to passionately defend his phone (they had been through a lot together) but Harvey cut him off. "Never mind. I just want your number so I can contact you in case of an emergency. I'll give you mine. You need to call me, text me, or leave me a note before you go somewhere, agreed?"

Mike nodded. That seemed reasonable enough. He waited in nervous anticipation of what Harvey would say next.

"That's pretty much rule number 1," Harvey said. "I just need to know where you are because knowing my luck the one time you go somewhere without telling me you'll get kidnapped or something."

Mike waited for the next rule but it never came. "Wait…so that's the only rule?" He asked in disbelief. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well…yes, I suppose. Do you want more rules?" Harvey scratched his head, looking uncertain and Mike was suddenly reminded that Harvey was probably pretty new to this whole taking-care-of-a-kid thing.

"Nope, that sounds good to me," Mike shrugged.

"At least try to keep your room neat. I get the laundry sent out for dry cleaning once a week. You can help yourself to whatever food you want. Let me know if there's something you want me to buy. And I suppose that's about it," Harvey said. "I know that this is going to be weird and awkward for both of us, but we'll just have to grin and bear it and get the next three months over with. I know you can take care of yourself so I'll just leave you alone and that way we can both do our own thing."

Mike got the feeling that this talk was supposed to have been an attempt at making him feel better and more secure about living here, but really all he got from it was the that _real_ rule number 1 was _leave Harvey alone and don't bother him about stupid stuff. _He swore to himself that he would try his hardest to follow this rule to make this whole situation easier on Harvey, starting now.

He stood rather abruptly. "Alright, well I'm going to go finish settling in. I'm pretty tired, so, uh, goodnight, Mr. Specter," Mike said, bringing his plate over to the dishwasher and hurrying back to the relative safety that the office provided.

"Goodnight," Harvey replied, sitting down on the couch to look through some paperwork. "And I like the Cubs, by the way," he said. Mike grinned at this admission and shut the office door behind him. It was only 8 o'clock, which was normally way too early for him to even contemplate sleep, but Mike was genuinely exhausted so he lay in bed and tried to sleep. His mind wouldn't stop racing, however, and he was up well into the night fighting the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that swept over him every time he looked at the pictures of his parents and Grammy that he had placed on the desk.

**So that's chapter 3! It's a bit shorter than the first two because I split it into two parts and I'll hopefully have the next chapter up pretty soon. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4! I'm a bit nervous about how it turned out, but I figured I'd just throw it out there for you guys and keep my fingers crossed that it was in character. I would once again like to thank everyone for their kind reviews, alerts, and favorites. I'm still totally overwhelmed by the response this has gotten lol. **

**Disclaimer: It's been 3 more chapters, and i still don't own any of it.**

**CHAPTER 4: TWENTY YEARS**

_**Well, I've been running from something**_

_**Twenty years in my car**_

_**Down a road that's leading me nowhere**_

_**-From "Twenty Years" by Augustana**_

It had been a week since Mike had moved in and things were not going well, although on the surface everything appeared to be okay. They had fallen into a routine—Mike would come to the kitchen for breakfast at around 6:45 every morning, his hair damp from his daily shower, and nibble on some toast and a piece of fruit while Harvey was getting ready to leave for work. Harvey was usually gone by 7, but he knew that Mike left to ride his bike (which he had retrieved from his and Edith's apartment the second day of his stay with Harvey) to school at about 7:15. Then Mike had school from 7:45 until 3:00 and he would usually go and visit Edith at the nursing home after.

Harvey normally didn't get back from work until 6 or 7. He had tried twice to cook dinner but had completely failed and almost burned the apartment down so he usually brought take-out home with him. He and Mike would eat in silence and then Mike would retreat to his room for the rest of the night. That was the extent of Harvey's contact with the kid and he was starting to get a bit concerned. He knew it was normal for teenagers to not want to spend a lot of time with adults, but Mike seemed to be trying pretty hard to avoid him at all cost. Ever since their talk the first night Mike had moved in, he had become like some sort of shadow. Harvey couldn't figure out why and it was absolutely maddening. After all, he was Harvey Specter—he was supposed to be able to fix everything, read everyone, and close every deal, god damnit! But Mike wouldn't talk to him and it was starting to drive him crazy. It wasn't like he cared about the kid or anything, of course, but Edith would never forgive him if Mike had some sort of nervous collapse on his watch. And Harvey was almost as afraid of Edith's wrath as he was afraid of Donna, although he would never admit that to another living soul.

Harvey had tried several times to make small talk with the kid to get him to feel a little more relaxed and open up about what was bothering him but was frustrated to admit that he was failing. Every time he tried to make a joke it fell flat and gone was the easy banter they had shared before Mike had moved in. He was at his wit's end and was going to have to concede defeat and call Edith to ask for advice if this kept up much longer. It was just plain embarrassing, that's what it was. Harvey Specter, concerned about being rejected by a fourteen-year-old boy. What was the world coming to?

Fortunately for Harvey, things came to a head one night eight days after Mike had moved in. Harvey had worked especially late that night and it was nearing 11 o'clock when he returned to the apartment. He had gone out to drinks with a prospective client and it had gone well, so he was in a good mood. Mike was sitting on the couch when he entered, immersed in reading something. He had his feet up on the coffee table and Harvey had to bite his tongue to stop from snapping at him to get them off of the expensive wood, but he figured that it was progress that Mike was sitting in the main living area instead of holed up in the office so he let it be.

"Hey, I brought Chinese and—" Harvey paused when he saw what Mike was reading. "What the hell? Are those the Washington files? You can't read that; it's confidential! And you'll probably mess up the order of the papers— give me that," Harvey said sternly, snatching the file from Mike's hands. "Jesus, when I took in a fourteen-year-old I didn't think I'd have to baby-proof the place but I'll have to reconsider that now. Bad puppy" he said, shaking his head and checking to make sure that the documents were still intact. He was hoping to at least get a defiant "I do not look like a puppy!" out of the kid but all he heard was silence so he continued on.

"The Chinese is probably getting cold," Harvey said, moving on and dismissing the incident as no big deal, but Mike didn't respond. "Mike?" He turned and felt his blood run cold. Mike had curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch, as far away from Harvey as possible. His eyes looked glassy and he was breathing so rapidly and shallowly that Harvey was afraid he was going to pass out.

"Mike?" He asked softly, tentatively stepping closer to the hyperventilating teen.

"No, its okay….m'okay, Mr. Specter," Mike gasped desperately, flinching back from Harvey's advance and struggling to get his breathing under control.

Harvey was baffled by this sudden panic attack and quickly replayed their conversation in his mind. _Shit. _He had handled the whole file thing completely wrong. The kid had been neglected and abused at his first foster home; of course he was going to freak out when Harvey got up in his face and snatched things out of his hands. He hadn't yelled exactly, but he had definitely raised his voice in an angry tone. And not to mention the fact that he had been drinking with the client and Mike could probably smell it on his breath. No wonder the kid was having some sort of Vietnam style flashback.

Disregarding the fact that he was wearing $600 pants, he knelt down in front of Mike and slowly grabbed the kid's shoulders in a gentle but firm hold, wincing at the way Mike flinched at the unexpected contact.

"Alright, you're fine, it's alright," Harvey murmured as though talking to a wounded animal. "Just match my breathing, okay? Mike?" Mike appeared to be listening but his chest was still heaving in panic.

"Michael," he said firmly and Mike's startlingly blue eyes snapped to meet Harvey's, wide with panic. "You are _fine_. Copy my breathing. C'mon, kid," he said, his voice drifting dangerously close to pleading. God, it was painful to watch the kid struggle like this. And it was all his fault.

Harvey began to take deep, exaggerated breaths and Mike, keeping his eyes on Harvey, obediently tried to copy him. At first nothing was happening but slowly but surely Mike's breathing returned to normal.

"Sorry," Mike began to say when he was finally breathing normally and was coherent again. "Sorry, Mr. Specter. I'm fine, really." His tone was almost pleading; begging Harvey not to press the issue any further. Harvey was more shaken by the events that had just transpired than he would like to admit, however, and couldn't just let this one go.

Disregarding the fact that he had been ready to yell at Mike for putting his feet on the expensive coffee table just a few minutes ago, Harvey took a seat on it across from Mike. He wanted to be able to read the kid's facial expressions to gauge how well this talk was going to go.

"Michael," he said, trying to make his tone both commanding and reassuring. Mike was still holding Harvey's gaze but looked ready to bolt from the couch any second, his face flushed with mortification. Harvey sighed. _Damn, the kid looked young right now. _

"Michael," he repeated and then faltered. "Care to explain what that was all about?"

Mike's eyes darted from Harvey's face to the door and Harvey knew that the kid was struggling to decide between fight and flight. Finally Mike took a deep, shuddery breath and began rambling.

"Sorry, Mr. Specter, really, I don't know why that happened. It's never happened before, but look; really I'm okay and we don't have to talk about it anymore. I didn't hear you come in and then you just took me by surprise and I dunno, you're kind of big and a lot stronger than me and I smelled that you had been drinking— not that you're drunk or anything, sorry— but then you were kind of shouting and you got a bit too close to take those papers from me and I don't know; it just reminded me of when I was with the Jensens. I don't think you'd ever hit me or anything, honest, but I have a really good memory so then I had a really vivid flashback of this one time when Mr. Jensen was drunk but really it wasn't so bad and I'm sorry I freaked out and I won't do it again, it's just that I've been so stressed out with all that's been going on with Grammy lately and I think that's why this happened, but I'm not going crazy or anything, I swear—"

"Jesus, Mike, _breathe,_" Harvey demanded. While he waited for Mike to take a few deep breaths, he desperately tried to regroup his thoughts and process all that he had just learned from this far-more-candid-than-normal Mike.

"Alright, I'm going to talk right now and you're going to listen, okay?" Harvey said. Mike meekly bobbed his head in agreement. Harvey took a deep breath, uncertain of how to begin.

"First of all, you need to stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. Having a flashback and panicking is a perfectly natural response when you've gone through something traumatic, especially if you have a vivid memory. This whole thing was my fault, not yours. I'm…sorry, Mike," Harvey said, noticing how Mike's eyes widened in surprise that Harvey Specter was actually apologizing to him. "I know the brief details of your foster care history; I should have known better than to invade your space without warning or to raise my voice over something as stupid and inconsequential as you snooping through files. I'll handle the situation better next time you do something that irritates me. And yes, there will be a next time that you irritate me," Harvey said, seeing that Mike looked slightly hurt at being called irritating, "because you're a teenage boy and that's what teenage boys do. Irritate people." This got a weak smile out of the kid, and Harvey reflected that this talk didn't seem to be going too poorly, at least not yet anyway. Mike wasn't crying or yelling or having a panic attack, so Harvey kept plowing full steam ahead, determined to get this embarrassing mushy emotion stuff out of the way as soon as possible.

"Second of all, you said that this whole deal reminded you of a time when Mr. Jensen 'was drunk but really it wasn't that bad.' I don't ever want to hear you trying to excuse that kind of behavior again. I don't know to what extent these people hurt you and I'm not going to force you to talk about it, but this is another case where you shouldn't apologize for things that aren't your fault. You were an eleven year old child who had just lost both of his parents. If they hurt you in any way it was their fault, not yours," Harvey said in his best trying-to-convince-the-jury-of-something voice. Mike seemed to actually be contemplating this logic so Harvey decided to leave it at that. He couldn't help but wonder how long these memories had been haunting Mike for. He suspected Mike had been trying to rationalize what had happened and blamed himself for the past few years, so getting him to even contemplate the idea that none of it was his fault was a huge step and he wouldn't press it any further. Still, Harvey was taken aback by the rage he himself felt towards the infamous Mr. Jensen who had reduced goofy, awkward, and kind Michael Ross into a panicked mess. Every time he pictured a tall, faceless man hitting Mike it made his blood boil for some reason that he didn't want to think about further. He shook himself from these thoughts as he realized Mike was still staring at him in nervous anticipation.

"Alright, now that we've established that what just happened wasn't your fault, we can—"

"We can eat! I'm starving Mr. Specter. Let's eat," Mike cut Harvey off, trying to put a stop to Harvey's lecturing.

"No, now we can discuss what's been bothering you the past week. We'll eat after," Harvey said and Mike shifted nervously, deliberately not meeting Harvey's eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mike denied weakly.

"I think you know _exactly _what I'm talking about. Tonight is the first time you've spoken to me in days. What's going on? Why the selective mutism? Come on, out with it," Harvey said in a tone that brooked no argument. Mike mumbled something sheepishly. "What was that? Didn't quite catch it," Harvey said pointedly.

Mike flushed. "I said, _I_ _didn't want to bother you_. Look, I know I can get kind of talkative and rambley and irritating and you're really busy all the time so I figured it'd be best if I just left you alone. I know you don't want to do this and that Grammy forced you to take me in, so I was just trying to make it easier on you by staying out of your way. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Mike sounded genuinely puzzled by the idea that Harvey had even noticed the fact that Mike was doing his best to sneak around him.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want. A teenager who acts like I have the plague every time I'm in the same room with him," Harvey drawled sarcastically. "I was starting to think that Typhoid Mary and I might have been good friends had we ever met. Look, I know this isn't your home but while you live here you don't have to lock yourself in the office 24/7. I'm not going to kick you out if you show up in the common living area for awhile. You see, I don't know if you know this, but I'll let you in on a secret. There are more rooms in this apartment than the office and the bathroom," Harvey said in a stage whisper. "There's this place called the kitchen, for example. And this kitchen place has this thing called food and you _eat it. _Your grandmother is going to kill me if you lose any more weight, ballerina."

"Ok, ok, point taken," Mike said, holding up his hands in defeat but grinning. Harvey was pleased to see that Mike was genuinely smiling for the first time in about a week and then he immediately chastised himself for caring if the kid smiled or not.

"Just relax, okay? Stop over-thinking this whole situation and you'll be fine. And stop hiding in the office, for Christ's sake. When I agreed to take you in, albeit yes, slightly against my will, I knew that you would be actually _living _with me. As in, you would be physically present and not hiding like some sort of stowaway in my spare room. So I won't be offended if I see you out here acting like a normal human being. It'll be a relief, actually. I mean, I thought you were going to have some sort of mental breakdown and your grandmother was going to kill me for it, kid. If you feel uncomfortable around here, just pretend like your back at home with her and go through your normal daily routine. Although here at the Specter apartment there will be no kissing or gratuitous physical affection," Harvey said and Mike looked so disturbed at the idea of Harvey kissing him on the cheek the way that Edith often did that it almost made Harvey laugh out loud. Almost.

"Anyway, now that we've gotten all of that out of the way we can stop acting awkward around one another, forget about this mess, and eat dinner," Harvey said, and Mike looked as relieved as Harvey felt that the emotional talk was over.

"The Chinese spilled," Mike pointed out and Harvey swore loudly as he saw that it had, in fact, spilled when he had dropped it in his attempt to get Mike to stop panicking earlier. He could see that Mike was starting to look guilty and held up his hand to cut him off before he could begin apologizing again.

"It's fine. We'll just order a pizza or something," Harvey said, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and cleaning up the mess of Chinese food, which fortunately hadn't stained the expensive rug. He looked up in surprise when Mike laughed.

"You really can't cook, can you?" Mike asked.

"What makes you say that? Of course I can cook, I just…choose not to," Harvey sputtered defensively. Mike just laughed again.

"I don't think you can cook, because this will be the fourth time we've had pizza this week. And I walked by the kitchen when you set the microwave on fire trying to heat up leftovers the other night. You know that you're not supposed to put foil in the microwave, right?" Mike asked.

"Of course I know that. Who doesn't know that?" Harvey lied, making a mental note to remember this for the future. No foil in the microwave.

Mike eyed him dubiously but didn't call him out on it. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. I can't cook very well either so I suppose I can't judge you. But I can make a really good grilled cheese if you want that for dinner tonight. I can also do pancakes and waffles. And Grammy taught me how boil water and I think that's how you make pasta and rice."

And so they wound up having grilled cheese for dinner that night and Harvey had to admit that it really was very good grilled cheese. As they were sitting at the table and eating, something occurred to Harvey that had previously slipped his mind amidst all the earlier commotion.

"Mike, why _were_ you reading those files?" He asked, trying to keep his tone from sounding accusing.

Mike blushed. "I dunno. I was bored and they were right there on the table. Also, um, I was thinking about maybe becoming a lawyer one day. I was just interested in learning more about what you do," he said shyly, looking everywhere but at Harvey.

Harvey wasn't sure what to make of this. "Well, that's not a good place to start if you're looking to learn about the law. That merger is a total mess. I'd be surprised if you actually got anything out of reading it."

Mike nodded in agreement. "It is a mess," he said sagely. "None of those numbers add up. But I suppose you knew that already."

Harvey blinked at the kid. "What do you mean, none of the numbers add up?"

"Andersen is trying to cheat Washington in the merger," Mike said in a _duh, could it be any more obvious tone. _"His financial reports were completely wrong. He's off by almost a million dollars somehow."

"How do you figure?" Harvey asked in bewilderment. He had checked and double-checked that paperwork himself.

Mike looked up at Harvey in surprise. "You didn't know? The missing million is listed on page 387. But I think I know where the real money is. The financial reports that they sent are only from 2005 on. I'm guessing that he's disguised the money in one of the earlier financial reports so he can sneak it past Washington and keep it for himself after the merger. There's probably a lot more than a million dollars missing in actuality. I'm sure if you go back far enough you'll find all of it. Just a guess," Mike shrugged, taking a bite of his grilled cheese.

Harvey stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell? You read the whole merger and all the paperwork? But that's 500 pages!"

"It's 511, actually," Mike said nonchalantly, as though it was no big deal and that he read and solved complicated legal problems that troubled even Harvard grads every day.

"But…how did you read and remember all of this?" Harvey said, still trying to wrap his mind around this revelation.

"I told you, I have a good memory. Once I read and understand something I remember it forever. I can recite all 511 pages verbatim right now if you want," Mike offered.

"No, that's okay…so you're saying that you're some kind of Rain Man? What grade are you in again?" Harvey questioned further, squinting at Mike as though it was possible that Mike had actually been riding his bike to Johns Hopkins med school instead of to the public high school every morning. Mike sighed wearily and Harvey reflected that Mike was probably used to people being fascinated with his mind if this was all really true.

"No, I just have a good memory. And I'm a freshman in high school. My parents wanted to keep me with my grade so that I'd 'learn to socialize appropriately' but I take all advanced classes anyway. My advisor thinks I could have gone to college a few years ago if I had wanted but I can't just up and leave Grammy. Look, it's not that big of a deal. People act weird around me sometimes when they find out and I wish they wouldn't. Some of my teachers used to treat me like some kind of show dog and would always try to show me off to the principal and the superintendant and it was just embarrassing and dehumanizing," Mike confessed and Harvey read the unspoken plea in his tone— _please don't treat me like some kind of freak. _

"Okay, point taken. I won't chain you to a desk and force you to work for me now that I know that you're some kind of super genius. But that's good work you did there on the Washington merger. Really good. So if you're still interested in learning more about what I do as a lawyer, maybe you could, um, stop by my office after school every once in awhile and I could give you some files to look over if you want," Harvey offered awkwardly. Mike beamed at him in excitement and Harvey quickly tried to quash the pleased feeling that had arisen in his chest over the fact that he had made the kid happy. He tried to remind himself that he was only pleased that Mike was pleased because it pleased Edith, who would then testify for him, but that strain of logic was a bit too complicated for him to comprehend at 1 in the morning after a long day, so he just tuned out his brain and listened to Mike as he chattered about something inconsequential. Maybe having the kid around wasn't actually so bad, Harvey admitted to himself. After all, he did make a really good grilled cheese sandwich.

**So there's chapter 4! Now that Mike and Harvey are pretty much done doing their awkward little getting-to-know-you-and-figuring-out-how-to-live-with-you dance, we'll get back into the plot. I'm thinking that next chapter will feature Edith, Donna, and Trevor, who will be very interesting to write. Hopefully you've enjoyed it and hopefully I'll get a lot of writing done this weekend and be able to update soon. -Rae**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! So due to a minor family emergency I'm taking a sudden and unscheduled trip out of town in three hours. I figured I had better post this now because I'm not sure how long I'll be gone (probably only 4 or 5 days) but I didn't want to make you guys wait since I already finished writing it. That being said, I really didn't have much time to reread and edit this chapter, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if it just doesn't flow right. I'm taking a leaf out of the amazing phoenix-on-cloud-nine's book in my characterization of Louis- he's kind of a huge weirdo that desperately wants Mike to work for him but he's not mean or overly creepy. Hope you enjoy it! Oh and there are some drug references and language in this chapter, courtesy of Trevor haha**

**CHAPTER 5: WE MIGHT AS WELL BE STRANGERS**

_I don't know your thoughts these days_

_We're strangers in an empty space_

_I don't understand your heart_

_It's easier to be apart_

_We might as well be strangers in another town_

_We might as well be living in another time_

_We might as well, we might as well_

_We might as well be strangers_

_From "We Might As Well Be Strangers" by Keane_

Harvey was surprised by how quickly life changed after Mike's mini-panic attack and their ensuing discussion after the files fiasco. Now that Mike was acting like a normal teenager, things had gotten exponentially much better. There were, however, a couple of strange downsides to Mike's new level of comfort in inserting himself in Harvey's life. For one, Harvey was working on resigning himself to the fact that hewas inevitably going to break an ankle one of these days, seeing as how he had tripped over Mike's converse every day for the past week. Mike had taken to kicking them off and leaving them all over the place— right by the front door, in the kitchen, by the couch, and once he had even found one shoe in the bathroom and one under the kitchen table.

And it wasn't just Mike's shoes that had begun to get scattered across the apartment. More and more of Mike's belongings had been creeping in and mixing with Harvey's stuff. Harvey found that he didn't mind this really as it seemed to make the kid feel more at home. But it had caused a few problems— once he had accidentally mixed up some of his files with Mike's homework. He had shown up in court with Mike's calculus homework and Mike had gone to math class with the Lombard contract. Harvey had had to ask for a recess so he could go and swap the two back and the judge had been less than pleased but Donna had thought it was hilarious.

It had been a rough but ultimately successful transition. It had been a long time since Harvey had lived with someone else and it was a strange feeling for him to know so many little details about someone else; those little idiosyncrasies that you only know about someone when you spend a lot of time with them. For example, Harvey now drank his coffee and read his morning newspaper with the sound of Mike singing in the shower as his background music. Apparently he now felt comfortable enough around Harvey to belt it out every morning. To be fair, the kid didn't actually have a terrible voice and he did have a pretty good repertoire, but it was still unnerving to prepare for work listening to the strains of "Hey Jude" or "Danny Boy" wafting from his guest bathroom. It was crazy how much life could change in the span of 2 weeks. And it was even crazier how things had changed over the past week since their talk. Ever since Harvey had basically given Mike permission to act like the kid that he was, he had been doing it.

"Hey, Harvey, Donna told me to give you these files," the current subject of Harvey's reflections had just entered his office.

"Thanks, Mike," Harvey said, accepting the files. That was probably the most hopeful sign that they were going to be okay; Mike was no longer calling him Mr. Specter, but Harvey instead.

Mike sighed and tossed his backpack and helmet on the floor before collapsing on Harvey's couch. He had gotten in the habit of riding his bike to the office after school most days and he would sit on the couch and do his homework in companionable silence with Harvey (with intermittent bouts of bantering) until Harvey was done working. If he finished early, he would sometimes look over cases with Harvey. Jessica didn't mind if Mike was in the office— she had laughed at Harvey for 5 minutes straight when she found out that he had agreed to take the kid in and was greatly amused by the whole situation. Harvey was quickly discovering that Mike was a veritable fountain of legal information and he was actually proving to be a great asset to Harvey. He still had a lot to learn, of course, but what he did know was truly astonishing. The kid had potential, that was for sure.

"I'm starving, Harvey. Do you have any food?" Mike asked.

"No, now get your dirty shoes off my couch and go ask Donna. I'm sure that she'd go travel the world to find rare delicacies if it was you asking," Harvey said, trying not to sound pettily resentful over the fact that Donna might actually like someone (Mike) equally as much or more than she liked Harvey. She had met the kid a few days ago and was still reveling in maternal bliss, fussing over him in a fierce, mother hennish way like he was four and not fourteen. Mike pretended to brush off her affection and be embarrassed by it, but it was clear as day to anyone who had eyes that he had blossomed under the attention and loved receiving care from a motherly/older sister figure.

"Okay," Mike shrugged and disappeared in eager pursuit of food. Harvey shook his head at Mike's ravenous teenage appetite and returned to work— only to be interrupted a minute later by Louis Litt entering his office.

Harvey groaned, not even bothering to disguise his irritation with the man. "Louis, to what do I owe the displeasure?"

Louis disregarded Harvey's blatant unfriendliness. He was used to it, after all. "Hey, Harv. Where's your boy wonder?" He said in his oily, nasally way, trying to sound smooth and buddy-buddy with Harvey.

Harvey exhaled loudly through his nose in exasperation. "First of all, Louis, we've talked about this before. You don't call me Harv. That's your wife's favorite nickname for me, though. She was screaming it last night—"

"Uh, Harvey, that's actually not funny because you know I'm not married," Louis said, cutting Harvey off.

"Still funny. And I've told you twice already today, Mike is not for sale" Harvey said sharply. Word had somehow gotten out amongst the associates that Mike had done some consulting work on a couple of Harvey's cases and now Louis, who was at the top of the associate pack, wanted Mike to work for him too.

"Oh, come on, Harvey, I know he's here. Look, there's his backpack and his helmet. Now where are you hiding the kid? I just want to ask him if he wants to take a look at a couple of briefs I'm working on. If he says no I won't make him do it," Louis said, looking around Harvey's office and squinting fiercely, as though it were possible that Mike was hiding behind a chair or a plant. Harvey thought that it made him look exactly like a rat.

"The answer is still no, Louis. He's a fourteen-year-old child— I'm embarrassed for you that you've actually stooped so low as to beg for his help. Now leave," Harvey said firmly, trying to return to the contract he was reading.

"But I'm just trying to help him start his legal career, Harvey! I talked to him the other day and he told me that he wants to be a lawyer someday. This would help me out and give him some experience at the same time. I'll teach him how to be a great lawyer," Louis said.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you're _such _a great lawyer. That's why I'm sitting here in this junior partner office while you have a cubicle in the associate bull pen. You're a real shining example, Louis. A paragon of success," he said drily. He knew that it was a low blow; Louis was a very good lawyer and would probably be the next associate to be brought up as a junior partner. But he also happened to be the most annoying person Harvey had ever met.

"Now _leave, _Louis," Harvey barked.

Louis marched over to the door in frustration. "Fine. I'm leaving— but one day when I'm senior partner I'll get you to work for me and your little golden boy too."

"You sound like the Wicked Witch of the West," Harvey called after Louis's retreating form before realizing that that made him Dorothy in this scenario and Mike his dog Toto. This puppy analogy was really beginning to get ridiculously prevalent in his life. "And you look like her, too," he muttered childishly.

"Talking to yourself, Harvey?" Donna asked, letting herself into the office and settling down on the couch, not looking like she was planning on leaving anytime soon.

Harvey groaned. "Donna, remind me to remind you to buy a lock for this office door so that I can actually get some work done without people bursting in here every 5 seconds. Where's Mike? He was going to go ask you for food."

"Oh, quit your worrying, Harvey. I didn't have any food but I sent him to the refrigerator in the associate break room and told him to eat to his heart's content," Donna said.

"Great, now Louis will get to him. And his appetite will be spoiled for dinner after being given free rein in the break room, thanks a lot," Harvey said sarcastically without thinking.

Donna laughed outright at this. "You sound like such a—"

"Don't say it," Harvey warned. "And anyway, you're the one who's treating the kid like he's your own child that you were separated from at birth, Mother Donna. Mike looks at you like you've just hung the moon."

Donna laughed incredulously at Harvey. "Mike looks at _me _like I've just hung the moon? Have you seen the way that he looks at you, Harvey? He wants to _be_ you someday! Look, I know it's only been 2 weeks. You still don't know each other that well and you're not his father figure—" Harvey suspected that there was an implied _yet _at the end of this phrase "–but it's obvious that he really admires you and wants to impress you. And you see something in him, don't even bother denying it. I think he reminds you of a younger you. And of your little brother. I know that Edith and I strong-armed you into taking custody of him but you've been stonewalled by clients hundreds of times before. If you really didn't want to do it you would have found a way around it. And I'm not saying this to freak you out and make you over think your relationship with Mike. I just wanted to let you know that I think you've been doing a great job with him and that I'm proud of you for letting someone else into your life," Donna said sweetly before leaving his office.

Now that he was finally alone he tried to get back to work but found himself distracted by Donna's comments. Did he view the kid as a younger version of himself? Maybe. Mike did share a lot of characteristics with Harvey— he was intelligent, driven, charismatic, and witty. But he was more willing to follow his instincts and his emotions while Harvey had a strict ethical code that he followed to the letter. And Mike was a lot softer and more naïve than Harvey had ever been. He supposed that Mike did resemble his brother Paul a lot in personality. Maybe that was why he had such strong urges to protect the kid.

He had been sitting at his desk and reading the same line of the contract for the 8th time in a row when Mike returned, clutching half a sandwich and a bag of pretzels.

"You hungry, Harv?" Mike asked, tossing the bag of pretzels on top of Harvey's desk so that they covered the contract that Harvey was still trying in vain to read.

"Don't call me 'Harv'," Harvey said, but it sounded much more half-hearted when he said it to Mike than when he had said it to Louis. He helped himself to a handful of pretzels.

"Okay, whatever. Hey, what's up with that Louis guy? He followed me around the associate break room for like 5 minutes and then he told me if I came with him to his office he would give me cookies. Should I be creeped out? Is that solicitation of a minor? I feel a little violated," Mike said.

Harvey sighed. "That's actually quite normal for Louis. Don't worry, he isn't trying to solicit you sexually or anything— trust me, I've been forced to listen to him talk about his attempted exploits with women— he's trying to get you to work for him. He's a bit…misguided. He's a good lawyer—don't tell him I said that or his head will get so big it'll rupture— but he's also the biggest Harvard douche ever. If he tries to get you to work for him again just find Donna or I and we'll deal with it."

Mike shuddered and nodded fervently. "Hey, is it okay if I hang out with my friend Trevor for a few hours after school tomorrow? We usually hang out pretty often and I haven't been around much the past few weeks so he's been wondering what's going on. Am I allowed to tell him about all of this?" Mike asked, laying down on the office couch and pulling out a textbook to read.

"I don't see why not. It's up to you who you want to tell about the situation," Harvey said calmly but internally he felt a flash of concern. Mike had mentioned Trevor once or twice and it had been in a positive light, but he couldn't help but remember the way that Edith had said that Trevor was a bad influence on Mike. Was he supposed to just let Mike hang out with Trevor? What was his role in this situation? He felt so unqualified as a guardian. He supposed he would just wait it out until he met Trevor himself and could get a feel for the kid, but the thought of Mike hanging out with a strange boy who had the potential to lead him astray was discomfiting. Still, it sounded like the two had been friends for years so Harvey decided that it would be fine…right?

"Thanks, Harvey," Mike yawned. "You going to be working much longer?"

"Fraid so, kid," Harvey said.

Mike shrugged. "S'okay. I kind of like hanging out here."

They slipped into a comfortable silence then, Harvey finally reading his contract while Mike perused his textbook. It wasn't long before Harvey realized that he hadn't heard Mike turn the page for awhile and he looked up to see Mike sound asleep on the couch, the book resting on his stomach. He shook his head fondly and gave the sleeping kid an indulgent smile.

"I saw that," Donna said, entering the office. Harvey resisted the urge to bang his head on his desk.

"Saw what?" Harvey decided denial was the safest route.

"You. Caring. Don't even bother denying it. Anyway, I'm headed out for the evening unless you need anything else from me," Donna said, going over to Mike and smoothing the hair back from his forehead. "Isn't he adorable when he's sleeping?"

"Donna, let me remind you for the eightieth time that he is fourteen and not four, no matter what your biological clock is telling you," Harvey said. "And yes, you can go. See you tomorrow."

With that Donna left and it was just Mike and Harvey in the office. He worked for another hour or two before shaking Mike awake and dragging the groggy teen back to his apartment. As he drove home with Mike rambling about nothing in the front seat— Harvey had discovered that the kid would talk about anything and everything when he was tired— he realized that it would be kind of…weird not having Mike in the office the next day when he was with his friend Trevor. How had he gotten used to the kid's presence in his life so quickly and without even noticing it? And what was going to happen at the end of the three months? He tried to push these thoughts away— after all, it had only been two weeks. He just needed to take things one day at a time. But even as he and Mike ate cold cut sandwiches for dinner and watched Star Trek reruns that night, the thought still niggled at the back of his consciousness. He found himself up very late that night staring at the ceiling of his bedroom and wondering if he would be happy or sad to see the kid go when the three months were up.

(SUITS)

Mike awoke extra early the next day and had a hard time sitting through his classes at school. He was excited to hang out with Trevor. He mostly took classes with the juniors and seniors and Trevor was in all normal freshmen classes so they rarely saw each other at school except in passing. When it came down to it, Trevor and his girlfriend Jenny were really the only friends Mike had and Jenny was really just his friend by association of Trevor.

Most kids in school made fun of awkward, geeky, far-too-smart Mike Ross. But he and Trevor had been best friends ever since Trevor had stood up to some bullies that were trying to beat Mike up at the park one day when they were seven. Mike sometimes wondered why Trevor still hung out with him. He knew that Trevor was edgier and a lot more popular than he was. He had been worried this year that since they didn't have any classes together Trevor would make completely new friends and replace Mike. So he had felt relieved the other day when Trevor had come up to him and asked him to hang out. Mike was keeping his fingers crossed that it would be just like old times.

When the bell for his last class of the day finally rang he rushed to his locker and deposited his books before hurrying off to find Trevor.

"Hey, man. You still down to hang out today?" Mike asked casually when he approached Trevor's locker.

"Mikey! Hey, buddy. Of course we can chill," Trevor crowed, pulling Mike into a brief brotherly hug and thumping him on the back. Mike winced. He really didn't like it when Trevor called him 'Mikey;' it made him feel like Trevor's annoying kid brother or something.

"Alright, cool. Is Jenny around?" Mike asked, following Trevor as they exited the school. Mike was acutely and uncomfortably aware of the fact that several people said hello to Trevor as they walked by but nobody acknowledged him.

"Nah, she's got cheerleading practice today. So how've you been? How's your grandma?" Trevor asked as they began walking to the nearby park in unspoken agreement. It was where they had met and where they had always gone to hang out after school when they were younger.

"She's okay. She's in a senior citizen recuperation center thing for the next few months, though. This guy is suing the place she works so that she can get compensated for her injuries. I'm actually living with him for the next few months until Grammy's well again," Mike said, sitting down on a park bench.

"You're living with a lawyer? Is he rich?" Trevor laughed.

"Yeah. You should see his place, Trevor. It's huge!" Mike said. He had been hoping to maybe invite Trevor over and introduce him to Harvey but he wasn't sure that that was such a great idea now that he thought about it more. He didn't know if Harvey would approve of Trevor, who was currently lighting a cigarette.

"Is he an asshole? I've heard lawyers are assholes. How rich is this guy? Do you ever steal stuff from him?" Trevor asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Nah, he's okay. And I can't steal anything from him, he'd definitely notice. Sharp guy," Mike said, deciding that he definitely shouldn't invite Trevor over now— Harvey would have a heart attack if Trevor stole something. "It actually hasn't been so bad living with him. We get along pretty well. And since when do you smoke?"

"I've been smoking for awhile now," Trevor said vaguely, coughing as he inhaled. Mike eyed him dubiously— he didn't sound like a very experienced smoker. But that was typical Trevor, always trying to look cool. He pretended that he was an experienced drinker too, but Mike knew better. Last summer Trevor had nicked a six-pack of beer and some vodka from his dad and they had tried some. Mike, who had been uncomfortable with the situation in the first place, had only had one beer and stopped because he didn't like the taste (not to mention the fact that it was a slightly touchy subject for him since his parents had been killed by a drunk driver). Trevor had insisted that he'd be fine drinking the other five beers and the vodka and had spent the night puking. "You want to try it?" Trevor said, offering him a cigarette.

"No thanks, man. Harvey would probably kill me if I came back smelling like smoke," Mike said. He didn't actually know if Harvey cared about smoking or not, but it made a good excuse. Still, Mike couldn't help but feel the urge to do it to please Trevor and to make him respect Mike more. Since Trevor always stood up to bullies for him, Mike sometimes felt pressured and obligated to make it up to Trevor somehow. Plus there was the fear of losing his only real friend.

"Whatever you say, Mikey. Hey, if you don't want a cigarette I've got some weed that we can smoke," Trevor said.

"Er, no thanks. Since when do you smoke weed?" Mike said, trying not to sound like an innocent goody two-shoes. He didn't want Trevor to feel like Mike was judging him but he couldn't believe that Trevor had changed so much in so little time. He supposed they hadn't talked much since high school had started, but it had only been two months. How had he not noticed any of this?

He didn't blame Trevor for partying; he had a tough home life after all. Mike, who had had his fair share of tough times, could see the appeal in losing himself in that kind of lifestyle, but was fortunate that he had Grammy to keep him grounded and on the right track. But Trevor, on the other hand… well, his dad was always in and out of prison for one minor offense or another and his mom just sat around all day and chain smoking and drinking. His sister, who was twelve years older, had skipped out of town the day she turned eighteen and had never come back. Trevor had always tried as hard as he could to fit and be popular at school to get some sort of affirmation from his peers because he wasn't getting any at home.

"Oh, I've smoked pot a few times. Last week I went to a Halloween party at Jason Barry's house— do you know him? He's a senior— anyway, I got totally wasted and high at the same time and puked everywhere; it was awesome," Trevor said, shaking his head and sighing wistfully at the apparently happy memory. It didn't sound that awesome to Mike but he didn't say anything. "So then I was talking to Jason and his cousin is a dealer and he said he'd hook me up if I wanted to do some dealing. And I said yes. It's good money. I'm actually heading off to do a job now if you want to come."

Mike blinked at Trevor, trying to process all of this. "I dunno, Trev. It doesn't seem like a good idea to me. Does Jenny know about any of this?"

"No, Jenny doesn't know. And you can't tell her, she'd freak out. Promise me you won't, okay?" Trevor said urgently. Mike nodded— he personally thought that Jenny deserved to know but it wasn't really any of his business at this point. Trevor looked relieved. "Hey, what do you mean 'it doesn't seem like a good idea?' C'mon, man, what are you, like eighty years old or something?"

"Look, Trevor, I'm not judging you for smoking and I don't want to sound like a goody two-shoes but isn't dealing pretty dangerous? What if you get caught or something? I'm just saying that doesn't seem like a good idea to get mixed up in all of that. We're only fourteen," Mike said cautiously, hoping Trevor wouldn't get mad. He felt like one of those pretentious, annoying kids in the anti-drug movies they always watched in health class at school.

"Oh, come on Mike, it'll be fine. It's better that we're younger, the cops won't suspect us of anything. I've already done it twice and it was fine both times. Seriously dude, how are we going to stay friends if we don't do stuff together? We never get to hang out anymore since you're in all those smart-people classes. Just come with me this once and I won't make you do it again. It'll be fine. I swear we won't get caught," Trevor implored, brushing off Mike's concerns like he always did.

"I don't know…" Mike said, worrying his lower lip. He felt a bit queasy. On one hand he really didn't want to get anywhere near a drug deal. How would he tell Grammy if he got caught? And what would Harvey do? But on the other hand he wanted to please Trevor and stay friends with him. Most of all he just wished that Trevor hadn't changed so much and that they could go back to eighth grade when things were much simpler and Trevor wasn't trying to impress all the upperclassmen at their school.

"Come on, would you stop being such a baby? We're in high school, it's time to grow up and start acting like it. God, you're such a pussy sometimes. No wonder I always have to beat people up for you; you'd never be able to do it by yourself," Trevor said disgustedly.

_Ouch._ That hurt— Trevor knew exactly where to press to get Mike to do what he wanted. "Fine, you asshole. I'll come with you. I'm not a baby," Mike snapped, fiercely clinging to the last strands of their dying friendship.

"Good. See, I knew you'd come around. Come on, let's go. Jason's cousin gave me the stuff during lunch hour today. We're supposed to bring it to his friend's house," Trevor said, taking off walking. Mike had a bad feeling about this and instantly regretted saying yes but he couldn't back out now because Trevor would never let him live it down. And if he didn't have Trevor as a friend then who did he have?

He jogged after Trevor, trying to quash the nerves that were jumping in his stomach. "We're bringing it to his friend's _house_? What the hell are we supposed to do, ring the doorbell and ask his parents to give him the weed when he gets home?"

"Don't be stupid, Mike. It's a college kid who lives with his friends in a house. We'll be fine. Come on, I have the address and it's just a few blocks from here," Trevor said, as though Mike was a very annoying small child. Mike _hated _when Trevor was condescending to him.

They walked in silence, but it wasn't like the comfortable silence that Mike shared with Harvey when they were both working in the office or the silence when he was washing the dinner dishes and Grammy was drying. It wasn't like the familiar silence that he and Trevor used to share late at night walking home from the movies— this was a broken silence, fraught with tension.

"This is it," Trevor said, sounding a bit nervous, which didn't reassure Mike at all.

"Uh, I'll just wait here, then," Mike said, standing on the sidewalk in front of the dilapidated little house while Trevor nodded and slowly walked up the steps and rang the doorbell.

Two young men emerged from the house and, after scanning the area to make sure nobody was watching, handed Trevor an envelope that was presumably filled with cash. Then Trevor reached into his backpack and handed them a package. Mike squinted more closely at the two guys and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he realized he recognized one of them. It was a kid named Peter Stuart that was a senior at their school. Peter met Mike's eyes and nodded coolly at him in recognition. Mike nodded nervously back. He really hoped that this situation wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

Trevor waved in farewell and bounded down the steps to join Mike. They walked away in silence. When they were far away enough from the house that Mike was sure that they wouldn't be overheard, Mike turned to Trevor.

"What the hell, man! I thought you said that they were going to be college kids. That was Peter Stuart; he's in my English class! What if he tells someone?" Mike exclaimed, trying not to panic.

"Relax, would you? He's probably friends with the guys that live in that house. And you won't get in trouble. How do you think that would go down? 'Uh, excuse me, Principal Wright, Mike Ross sold me drugs,'" Trevor imitated in a high pitched voice. "Yeah right. He'd get in trouble too. Forget about it, we're fine. And look, I just got nearly $500 dollars!"

"Holy shit, how much weed did you just sell them?" Mike asked in disbelief.

"A lot. I think that they're planning on turning around and selling most of it to their college friends," Trevor said. "Look, man, I've gotta go but this has been fun. I'm busy hitting up a party tonight but we should definitely hang out again soon."

"Yeah, whatever," Mike said, trying not to sound too bitter. They had hung out for like an hour and almost all of that time had been taken up with them fighting and selling drugs. Not exactly the greatest time he'd ever had in his life. He didn't want to be girly, but he felt kind of…hurt. And abandoned by his best friend.

"Hey, are we cool, Mike?" Trevor asked.

"Yeah, I suppose. But I'm not doing that again, Trevor. And you know that I wish you wouldn't either. I don't want to see you get hurt, man," Mike said.

"I hear you, buddy. But I'll be fine," Trevor said, before waving and turning to walk home.

Mike slowly wandered back to Harvey's apartment, lost in thought. He still felt nervous about everything that had just happened and hoped that there wouldn't be ramifications from it. He would have a hard time meeting Peter's eyes in English next week, that was for sure.

He let himself in to the apartment with his copy of the key and sat curled up on the couch with his chin tucked on his knees. He felt torn between the life that Trevor wanted him to have and the life that Grammy wanted him to have. He stared dumbly out the window at the incredible view and he was still there almost two hours later when Harvey returned.

"Hey, you're back early. I thought you'd be out late with Trevor. How'd it go?" Harvey asked. He seemed to be in a good mood, probably because he was home at 6 on a Friday night.

"Fine," Mike said. He had meant for it to sound light and normal, but it came out heavy and dark.

"Hmm," Harvey said. "Sounds like it didn't go that fine. You, uh, wanna talk about it?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Mike sighed. He thought about what a relief it would be to spill everything for a minute but decided against it. Harvey looked uncertain but didn't press the issue any further.

"Well, I got pizza with the cheese in the crust like you said you liked," Harvey said, placing the pizza box down on the table. Mike smiled half-heartedly at the gesture.

"Thanks," Mike said, shuffling over to the table and helping himself to a slice. He picked at it, still staring off into space.

"Oh, come on, surely it can't be that bad, right? Cheer up, there's a Lord of the Rings marathon on TV tonight. We've got pizza, and I bought ice cream the other day. It can't get much better than that, can it?" Harvey said cajolingly, trying to coax Mike into a better mood.

They spent the night watching Lord of the Rings on the couch. Neither of them said much and Mike excused himself to go to bed after the second movie. It was a long time before sleep came. He fell asleep to the sounds of the battle to rid Middle Earth of Sauron playing in the living room where Harvey was still watching and his sleep was fraught with nightmares of Trevor and Peter Stuart and Jason Barry's cousin chasing him and trying to steal the 'one ring to rule them all' from him. He had a bad feeling that this whole drug dealing business wasn't over yet.

**dun dun dun. haha. but really, hopefully everyone seemed relatively in character- i didn't want to make Mike super whiny and prissy but I think that I would be alarmed and react similarly if one of my friends was suddenly selling drugs and pressuring me into doing it with them. And I feel like young canon Mike probably was uncomfortable with smoking weed at first until he got used to it and that he probably originally started doing it to impress Trevor. Also I didn't want to make Trevor too huge of an asshole- he is an anchor weighing Mike down but he's not evil, at least not in this story. I think he's just kind of misguided and wants to be popular. but that's that. I know I said I would include Edith in this chapter but I didn't have time, sorry.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone! Warning for some strongish language and drug references again. **

**A quick excited rant (you can disregard this if you want): I know that everyone's freaking out about Donna lately (I am too!) but did anyone happen to notice that the song playing at the end of the most recent episode when Harvey and Donna are by the elevators is a variation on my theme song for this story? It's called To Build a Home by the Cinematic Orchestra (disclaimer: don't own it) and was (obviously) my titular inspiration. I almost fell off my couch in joy and surprise when I heard it and it helped negate some of my depression about the (hopefully temporary) loss of Donna. I don't really think it means anything significant that they chose that song haha but it's still pretty dang cool! **

**CHAPTER 6: SIMPLE SONG**

_**I know that things can really get rough **_

_**When you go it alone**_

_**Don't go thinking you've gotta be tough**_

_**And play like a stone**_

_**Could be there's nothing else in our lives so critical**_

_**As this little home**_

_**From "Simple Song" by The Shins**_

The next few days passed without incident but Mike still felt constantly on edge. He had spent most of the weekend sequestered in his room, trying not to think of the potential consequences of his sudden involvement in the world of drug dealing. Trevor had called him twice but Mike had ignored his phone's buzzing each time. He wasn't sure how he was feeling about the current state of their friendship and wasn't ready to talk to Trevor yet. He had spent most of Saturday poring over Harvey's old law textbooks to distract himself and consequently now had all of them memorized. Harvey had seemed somewhat alarmed at the fact that Mike had gone back to spending so much time in the office again and probably feared that Mike was going to regress and go back to the ghost act that he had favored during his first week in the apartment. This scrutiny made Mike uncomfortable so he had thrown Harvey a bone Sunday afternoon to try and reassure the older man that he wasn't about to pull another mute act. He really didn't know why Harvey cared if he was talking or not (in fact, Harvey acted like it aggravated him a lot of the time when Mike spoke), but Mike found himself wanting to appease Harvey's concern—Harvey clearly knew that something was weighing heavily on Mike's mind but he didn't probe, and for that Mike was grateful.

So he had shown his gratitude by traipsing into the living room with a stack of law books and challenging Harvey to a mock trial. He had lost miserably, of course, but it was fun testing his mind against Harvey's sharp wit, natural talent, and years of practice. In truth, he had held his own for much longer than he had originally anticipated. Harvey actually told him as much and Mike had ducked his head and blushed a bit, trying to stifle the rush of happiness that arose in his chest at Harvey's approval. Harvey had clapped him on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner on his way to the kitchen to call and order dinner, leaving Mike smiling shyly in appreciation of the affection. It had been a long time since anyone besides Grammy had touched him and now he had Donna trying to smother him with hugs on a daily basis and Harvey's rare but meaningful pats on the back or the shoulder. It was strange but kind of nice, he realized. Ever since his parents died he had studiously cringed away from physical affection but he was slowly remembering why he had liked the affirmation in the past.

Spending Sunday evening like that had been a balm for his troubled soul— bantering and arguing fake cases with Harvey made him forget completely about his troubles with Trevor. It all came back to him later, however, while they were sitting at the kitchen table. Mike was attempting to write a history report and Harvey was wading through mountains of paperwork.

He subtly watched Harvey out of the corner of his eye as he worked, trying to decide if he could talk to the older man about his troubles with Trevor. He had thought about it on Friday but had immediately dismissed it. The Peter Stuart incident should have been a done deal by now— everything had gone smoothly, nobody had seen the drop, and Mike hadn't technically participated except by being present at the scene. But he figured it would make Harvey angry to know that Mike had been running around dealing drugs (it would reflect poorly on Harvey's sterling image, after all, if his charge was incarcerated on his watch) and he couldn't think of a way to talk about the problems he was having with Trevor without telling the entire story about the marijuana. When it came down to it, he realized that he just wanted advice from a reliable adult about what to do in regards to Trevor. Should he try to continue to be friends with him despite his poor choices? Or should he just resign himself to being a friendless loser for the next 3 and a half years of high school? He was tired of being responsible and mature. He just wanted someone else to tell him what to do in this situation— and not because that someone wanted to boss him around, but rather because they had his best interests at heart and wanted to help him. He wasn't sure if Harvey fit into that category or not, though.

"Look, Mike, I know I'm attractive but the staring is getting a bit distracting. If you want I'll commission a little portrait of me and you can carry it around with you and look at that instead of blantantly leering at me like you're doing right now," Harvey said sarcastically.

Mike rolled his eyes at Harvey's dramatics. "You take all of your jokes entirely too far, you know," he replied, shaking his head. Harvey must have caught something in Mike's tone because he looked up and scrutinized Mike.

"Did you want something?" Harvey asked, sounding surprisingly serious for once.

Mike considered Harvey carefully for a moment. What he _wanted _was to spill everything that was going on in his mind, but he found himself holding back. He wasn't sure if he was ready to make the leap and implicitly trust and confide in Harvey. What if Harvey didn't really care about Mike's problems beyond keeping Mike alive and laughed at him for wanting friend advice? All of his old insecurities were resurfacing and he found himself losing his nerve, the words that had been so close to the surface sinking back down out of reach and into the dark oblivion of the back corners of his mind.

"No, I'm okay," Mike said quietly. Harvey looked slightly dissatisfied at this response but said nothing further and they continued to work on in silence until midnight.

Little did Mike know that a few days later he'd be regretting the fact that he hadn't opened up Sunday night when he'd had the chance and told Harvey everything before trouble found him and he was forced to come clean.

(SUITS)

Monday and Tuesday passed quickly and quietly but by Wednesday morning Mike could no longer deny the feeling in his gut that something was wrong, because Peter Stuart hadn't been in school yet that week. Mike tried to tell himself that maybe Peter just had a cold or that he had gone on a long weekend trip, but he knew that he was kidding himself. Knowing his dreadful luck, it was somehow related to what had happened on Friday.

It was now Wednesday afternoon and it was time for his English class. Upon arriving at the classroom Mike quickly scanned the collection of students to see if Peter was there, not really expecting that he would be after his recent absences.

To his surprise, however, Peter was present and was sitting in his normal seat. He looked vaguely unhealthy— kind of pale and clammy like he had just recovered from a nasty bout of the flu. While that seemed like a promising sign that maybe Peter had just been absent because he was sick, the glare on his face when he saw Mike told otherwise. Mike felt a chill run down his spine as Peter continued to scowl at him unabashedly as he walked to his seat and sat down—Peter, who had never noticed Mike or acknowledged him before this moment. Mike whipped his gaze away from Peter's so quickly he got a crick in his neck but he could still feel Peter's eyes boring holes in the back of his head as he sat and tried to listen to the teacher's lecture.

When the bell finally rang Mike was up and out of that classroom before anyone else, even though he sat in the far corner. He darted through the halls to Trevor's locker, checking over his shoulder to make sure that Peter hadn't followed him.

"Trevor, I need to talk to you," Mike said urgently, elbowing his way through Trevor's jock friends that were surrounding his locker. Mike wondered briefly if Trevor was embarrassed by Mike's presence and familiarity with him because he wasn't quite meeting Mike's eyes. A couple of Trevor's new buddies— Mike thought they were named Kyle and Gregory— were exchanging glances and looking like they wanted to laugh at Mike, who suddenly became aware of the fact that his flannel shirt was buttoned one button off and was crooked. He cursed his absentmindedness and his inability to follow social convention.

"Yeah, what's up?" Trevor said. His tone wasn't very friendly or welcoming, but Mike felt a surge of gratitude that Trevor hadn't dismissed him outright to look cool in front of the others.

"Er, it's not something we should discuss here probably. Science project. Boring stuff," he said to Kyle and Gregory by way of explanation. "Come on," he said, dragging Trevor off to a side hallway and ignoring the snickers of Trevor's friends.

"What's going on? I haven't seen you look so scared since we went on that Boy Scout camping trip in 4th grade and you thought you heard a bear behind you when you went to pee in the woods. Is Grammy okay?"

"Yeah, Grammy's fine— look, Trevor I think something's wrong. Peter Stuart literally just stared at me for the entirety of English class like he was about to descend into a homicidal fury and throw me out the window. Not to mention he hasn't been at school for the past two days and he looks terrible. Is something going on?" Mike questioned.

"Jesus, Mike, would you relax? Nothing's wrong. So Peter got a cold and missed a few days of school, big deal. You need to stop being so paranoid," Trevor groaned in exasperation. "I've gotta go; I've got football practice in ten minutes," he said dismissively, taking off down the hallway towards the locker room.

"Since when do you play football?" Mike shouted after him but received no response. Shaking his head, he cut through the math hallway and out the back door of the school as a shortcut. Maybe he _was_ just being paranoid. Maybe he needed to stop over thinking this. Still, he had an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. But it probably would be fine. After all, it's not like Trevor was dealing crystal meth or anything, it had just been a bit of weed. Okay, maybe a lot of weed, but still—

_Wham! _His musing was abruptly cut off as he was suddenly grabbed and shoved roughly and unceremoniously against the fence of the back field behind school, his head slamming uncomfortably against the slats of wood. Unless some student was really out of his or her way, this attack would never be seen back here and there was no hope of being rescued from…well, from whoever the hell it was that had just grabbed him. Mike instantly rued his decision to not go out the front door like he usually did.

"What the hell—" Mike tried to shout but he was cut off by a nasty punch to the right side of his face. He heard laughter from multiple people…two or three he guessed. He gasped as his head exploded in pain, already knowing that his cheek and eye were going to bruise and swell.

"What do you want?" Mike groaned, struggling to identify his attackers. His head was spinning and it was hard to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He tasted blood and realized that his nose was bleeding.

"I think you know what we want, Mike," a familiar voice jeered, and then Mike received a painful punch to the gut. _Shit. It was Peter Stuart._ He forced himself to open his eyes and recognized the college kid that had been on the front porch with Peter when they had bought the pot. Mike though his name was Derek but wasn't certain. There was also a third guy who looked like he was part giant, looming silently and threateningly behind Derek and Peter. Mike suspected that he had been the one doing the punching.

The hit to the stomach knocked the wind out of him and he tried to control his breathing and not panic, remembering the way that Harvey had helped him to breathe evenly when he was freaking out the other week. He took a few deep breaths in….and out….and in….and out, imagining that he was back at the apartment on the couch and felt a little calmer.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Peter," he snapped. "Let me go and we can talk."

More laughter. "I don't think you're really in a position to be bargaining right now, Ross," Derek sneered. "Now you listen to me, and listen good. That weed that your little buddy sold us? Yeah, it was laced with something. My dear little cousin"—he gestured to Peter— "spent the past four days puking his guts up." Ah. That explained why Peter knew Derek and also why he was looking all pallid and shaky.

"Not to mention the fact that one of our friends had to go the hospital for the whole weekend, he got so sick. We want our money back, now. All of it. You're lucky that we're not calling the cops on you guys," Derek said.

"Look, I think you're all overestimating my involvement in this. I'm not a dealer. I just happened to be with Trevor when he said he needed to bring you guys the stuff. I'm sorry that it was bad weed and I'm glad that your friend is okay, but I had nothing to do with it and I don't know anything about it. I don't have the money, Trevor does. I'm sure he'll give it back to you if you talk to him—" Mike tried to explain in a placating tone.

"Oh, we already tried talking to him about it. We called him on Sunday morning and explained it to him and he hung up on us, the little shit. But fortunately we have you as our bargaining chip and messenger. Go find your friend and tell him that if he doesn't bring the money to my house in the next 3 hours, we'll pay him a visit and your black eye will look like nothing compared to what we'll do to him," Derek threatened grimly, and Mike could tell from his tone that he wasn't joking.

"He'll know that we mean business when he's sees your face," Peter said, roughly shoving Mike away from them like he was diseased. "Now go! Find your bastard friend and get our money!"

Half-giant then proceeded to pick Mike up and bodily throw him in the direction of the football field. Mike wondered in baffled amazement if the guy's father was the Incredible Hulk.

"I could have walked that way on my own," Mike muttered under his breath, picking his bruised and aching body up off the ground and setting off at a rapid clip towards the football team, trying to ignore the creepy feeling of the three guys watching him from behind.

By the time he limped over to the football field the team had left for the locker rooms, so Mike slipped in a side door and went to wait for Trevor in a corner close to the locker room exit.

When Trevor emerged, Mike immediately grabbed a hold of him and pulled him into the alcove.

"Hey, what the hell, man!" Trevor shouted, and Mike clamped his hand over Trevor's mouth before the rest of the football team came to investigate.

"Trevor, it's just me. Look, we need to talk," Mike hissed urgently, letting go of Trevor, who looked like he was about to start hollering again until he caught sight of Mike's face. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Shit, Mike, are you okay? What the hell is going on?" Trevor yelped in concern, moving closer to inspect Mike's injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mike shrugged him off. "But you might not be if we don't fix this now. Peter and Derek and some other guy just cornered me in the back field. They're furious because the stuff you sold them was laced. They said that if you don't get them their money back in the next"— he checked his watch quickly— "two hours and 52 minutes then they'll come after you and make what they did to me look like a joke. Where's the money, Trev?" Mike paraphrased.

Trevor paled. Mike suddenly did not have a very good feeling about this.

"Where's the money, Trevor?" Mike repeated, alarm creeping into his voice. Both he and Trevor were equally broke. If Trevor had spent it all already…well, it wasn't like either of them just happened to have $500 lying around that they could spare.

Trevor's face was ashen now, and Mike almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"You spent it all, didn't you? Holy hell, Trevor. We're screwed. How could you? Why didn't you just pay them back in the first place when they called you Sunday morning?" Mike knew he should stop shouting but he was panicking a little.

"Yeah, I spent it all, okay, Mike? I had to. I had to bail my dad out of jail. He got arrested again Saturday night. The money was already gone when they called me. I tried to call you to tell you about it but you didn't answer. Are you happy now?" Trevor snapped defensively, his voice strained. Mike deflated slightly at this.

"No," he said. "I'm not happy. But we'll figure this out, okay? Do you have any money saved?"

"No, it's all gone," Trevor said bitterly. Mike knew how much Trevor resented his father and his frequent arrests for public drunkenness and brawling and assault.

"Okay, well, I've only got about $200 saved," Mike confessed glumly. "Do you think we could get them to take that now and pay the rest back later?"

"It's our only option, I think. I'll talk to Jason and see if he can get me any more dealing jobs as soon as possible so I can make some quick money," Trevor said.

"Are you kidding me? What's wrong with you? You can't keep dealing; that's what got us into this mess in the first place!" Mike shouted.

"Well I don't exactly see people lining up to give a fifteen-year-old drug dealer and his fourteen-year-old accomplice a job to pay for their own blood money," Trevor said irritably. Mike sank to the floor to sit against the wall, trying to think. Trevor sighed and joined him on the floor.

"I'm really sorry, man. I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in any of this. I didn't think they'd go after you," Trevor said, sounding genuinely regretful.

"Yeah, well….it's okay I suppose. We can talk about that later. But for now….look, Trevor, I think I know someone who can help us, but you've got to trust me on this. Meet me at the park by Derek's house in two hours, okay? I'll be there with the money," Mike promised, clambering to his feet. Trevor looked uncertain but nodded.

"All right, I'll see you in a bit. Stay safe, man. Those guys weren't kidding around. They know exactly who you are and they're pissed," Mike warned, before taking off. Trevor was left sitting against the wall, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable.

(SUITS)

Mike wasn't sure what his plan was exactly when he entered the familiar Pearson Hardman building, but he knew that he had to figure _something _out and he had to do it soon. He had no one else to turn to besides Harvey right now.

He crept off the elevator and tried to walk so that nobody could see the right side of his face, which was beginning to swell and was still bleeding a bit. Half-giant had apparently been wearing a ring when he punched him, which explained why his cheek was currently bloody.

He snuck over to the hallway by Harvey's office and hid behind a large plant for a moment, feeling completely childish and ridiculous. He could see that Harvey wasn't in his office, but in order to figure out where the older man was he needed Donna to leave her desk so that he could sneak over and read her planner to see Harvey's schedule. If he went over to her and she saw his face like this he would never escape her mothering clutches. He crouched for a moment, trying to think of ways to distract Donna and get her to leave her desk. After a few minutes, however, Donna got up and disappeared to go to the bathroom, taking care of the problem for him. Mike wondered if he had suddenly developed some sort of Jedi mind control ability that made people go to the bathroom when he wanted them to and then wondered if he had hit his head against the fence harder than he thought.

He grabbed the schedule off of Donna's desk, sending up a silent prayer that Harvey was in Pearson Hardman and not off visiting a client or in court today. To his relief, he discovered that Harvey was in a meeting in Conference Room B. Not thinking any further, he tossed the planner back and sprinted down the hallway to get to Harvey, ignoring the stares he was attracting. They only had about an hour and a half left before they ran out of time.

He burst blindly into Conference Room B and instantly regretted it upon seeing that Harvey wasn't alone (although he didn't know why he hadn't thought of that himself, after all, why would Harvey be having a meeting alone in a conference room? Damn adrenaline rush). Jessica Pearson herself was there, looking like a stern goddess. Her gaze was as calm and cool as ever but she definitely wasn't happy with Mike, judging from the way her eyebrow was arched and her lips were pursed. The client Harvey and Jessica were meeting with was a pretentious-looking old man who seemed appalled by Mike's very presence in the room and also seemed appalled at the idea that there was someone in the world who wore incorrectly buttoned flannels out in public. He was eyeing Mike as though he were some sort of strange alien specimen under a microscope and Mike reflected that he probably should have wiped the blood off his face before barging in.

After taking in Jessica and the client's responses to his uninvited presence, he automatically searched for Harvey's face. He frowned when he saw that the chair Harvey had been occupying was empty before belatedly realizing that Harvey had already sprung into action, crossed the room, and was now standing in front of him, his mouth taut and his eyes crinkled in concern.

Harvey tentatively reached out as though to touch Mike's cheek and assess the damage but Mike flinched reflexively and Harvey's hand immediately dropped to his side.

"What the hell is going on? Are you okay?" Harvey said quietly in Mike's ear, grabbing a gentle hold of Mike's upper arm and steering him towards the door before turning around to face the client. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tobias, but either we'll have to reschedule this meeting for another time or you'll have to let Jessica handle your paperwork. It's urgent, as you can see." Jessica quirked an eyebrow at this, looking surprised and slightly displeased, but Harvey shook his head back at her almost imperceptibly.

Mr. Tobias opened his mouth to protest, but Harvey just said "sorry" again and ushered Mike out of the room, the glass door slamming behind them.

Mike stood in the hallway, swaying slightly until Harvey grabbed hold of his arm again, muttering "Easy there, junior." He allowed himself to be dragged back to Harvey's office where Harvey ignored his attempts to apologize for ruining the meeting and pushed him down to sit on the couch. Donna exploded into the room then and spent ten minutes trying to measure Mike's pupil dilation and asking him random questions to determine if he had a concussion (he was able to multiply 4 digit numbers in his head so the verdict was that he was not concussed, fortunately). She then poked around his cheek for awhile before deciding that his cheek bone was not broken, ignoring his weak protests that broken or not, it still hurt when she poked it. Finally Harvey sent her to go get some ice for Mike's cheek.

"Harvey, I'll ice my cheek later. It's fine, really it is," Mike said somewhat desperately as Harvey eyed him dubiously. He checked his watch and, upon seeing that they only had an hour left, decided to just go for it as casually and nonchalantly as possible. "Well, the real reason I stopped by for a chat is…uh, you wouldn't mind loaning me 500 dollars at some point during the next 58 minutes, would you?"

**My first cliff hanger! Well, sort of, I don't know if that really was as exciting and dramatic as I was planning haha. I apologize if something doesn't make sense—I really don't know anything about laced weed or drug deals (and I didn't want to google it because I didn't want my mom to see) but it seemed decently plausible to me. Also I know that it might seem like they're making a big deal about $500 dollars but keep in mind that this is taking place like 10 years in the past. Also as a broke college student I can testify that that is a substantial sum of money! And probably would also be a lot to a jobless fourteen year old. On a completely unrelated side note, I was rereading some of this story and I realized that I named Mike's dad Peter and also have a character named Peter Stuart. That wasn't intentional and is quite strange because I don't have particularly strong feelings for the name Peter, but oh well? Also I named Mike's mom Marianne and Harvey's brother Paul…subconscious Peter Paul and Mary reference ftw? haha**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7: WAITING FOR A SUPERMAN**

_**Is it getting heavy?**_

_**Well, I thought it was already as heavy as can be.**_

_**Tell everybody waiting for a Superman**_

_**That they should try to hold on the best they can**_

_**He hasn't dropped them, forgot them, or anything**_

_**It's just too heavy for Superman to lift.**_

_**-From "Waiting for a Superman" originally by The Flaming Lips and covered by Iron & Wine**_

_From Chapter 6: He checked his watch and, upon seeing that they only had an hour left, decided to just go for it as casually and nonchalantly as possible. "Well, the real reason I stopped by for a chat is…uh, you wouldn't mind loaning me 500 dollars at some point during the next 58 minutes, would you?"_

Harvey stared blankly at Mike in bewilderment for a moment before demanding to know what was going on.

"Nothing's going on, Harvey. I don't know why you're going off and jumping to conclusions here. Maybe I just need $500 dollars for….something. You spent 500 dollars on those pants that you're wearing and that wasn't a big deal. Why does this have to be a big deal?" Mike protested weakly, trying to think of a logical argument to distract Harvey. It didn't work.

"Oh, I'll admit that I'm jumping to a _lot _of conclusions right now but I'm still having a hard time figuring out what the hell is going on," Harvey snapped with a sort of weary exasperation. "And let me tell you, kid, subtly is not your strong suit. Any idiot with two neurons to rub together would be able to tell that something is wrong. Shall we count the clues together?" Harvey said mockingly, as though talking patronizingly to a small child. Mike scowled and may or may not have purposefully smeared a bit of blood on the couch in retribution.

"Let's see; you burst into that conference room looking like you had just seen a ghost, you're bleeding on my very, very expensive leather couch, and your shirt is buttoned incorrectly. Not to mention that you look like you just lost a fight with the Incredible Hulk," Harvey counted off.

"Well, actually—" Mike began animatedly, thinking of the half-giant who had beaten him up. He stopped and backpedaled upon seeing Harvey's face. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Look, If you help me I'll pay you back, I swear. By my calculations, it'll only take me a few years to make 500 dollars. I've already saved 200 dollars over the past 14 years, so it won't be so bad, right? Of course, I'm still a minor so I can't access my bank account to get that money, but once I turn 15 I'll get a job and then it'll just take me a few years to make 300 dollars because I'll have to use most of that money to help Grammy, and I can pay interest, of course, but then it'll take like 10 years with the interest and I suppose it really all depends on how the stock market is doing in the future, so—"

"_Michael_," Harvey said forcefully. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as though nursing a migraine. "I will give you 500 dollars payback free if you stop rambling and tell me why you need the money."

"I'd ramble a lot more often if I knew that was all it took to get 500 dollars," Mike said with a forced laugh. He worried his lower lip anxiously. This was really what it all came down to, wasn't it? _Trust._ Mike had been dealing with his own problems for years. Even as a little kid, he hadn't wanted to tell his parents about getting bullied in school because it made them sad, so he dealt with it on his own. Could he trust Harvey, someone he had only known for a month, to fix his problems for him? Could he surrender control for awhile and let an adult take the wheel and call the shots? He wanted to, he really did. He envied his classmates who complained that their parents never gave them the freedom to make their own choices. He supposed that his peers were only responding like normal teenagers trying to find themselves and distance themselves from their parents, but he wished he had someone that wanted to be involved in his life and wanted what was best for him unconditionally. Grammy did, of course, but she was always so tired from work and he didn't want to bother her or upset her.

In this instance he supposed he didn't have much choice. Harvey was an expert at reading body language; he would know if Mike lied to him about why he needed the money. Not to mention that this had been his first instinct. When Trevor had admitted that he didn't have the money anymore, Mike had instantly known that his next step was to go to Pearson Hardman and talk to Harvey, although he didn't know why exactly. He decided that maybe he should just follow his gut on this one. It was probably about time he started trusting someone else, after all. Grammy was great, but she was getting older and wouldn't always be around for him. And trusting Trevor obviously hadn't been a good idea. But Harvey…well, he tried to hide it, but Mike knew that Harvey had a very firm set of ethics and no matter how much he would protest it, he wouldn't let Mike go out and get himself killed.

_Trust, _Mike reminded himself firmly. Harvey was sitting directly across from him and was gazing at him with his patented penetrating stare that made it impossible for Mike to look away. It made him want to spill his every secret. And so he did.

The whole story came out and everything happened very quickly from that point on. Mike told Harvey everything— about meeting Trevor in grade school, how they had been best friends and then had drifted apart since high school began, how Trevor's home life wasn't ideal and how Trevor's sister left and never came back, and how he was now sliding down a slippery slope and trying to pull Mike with him. Donna came in the office about midway through the story (toting excessive amounts of medical supplies with her) and handed him an icepack. She sat down on the couch to listen to his story too, and Mike found that he didn't have the heart to send her away. If he was going to trust Harvey he figured he might as well go all in and trust Donna too— she'd find out anyway; it was common knowledge around the office that Donna was omniscient.

Harvey listened silently, getting up and pacing around after awhile. After Mike finished his tale, Harvey continued to pace, occasionally muttering to himself. Mike exchanged glances with Donna, who looked concerned.

"Er, Harvey, normally I wouldn't dream of interrupting you when you have that scary pacing-and-thinking face on, but this is kind of a time-sensitive issue. I only have like half an hour to settle this before they go after Trevor. What're you doing, anyway?" Mike asked tentatively.

He regretted this question, because Harvey then launched into an elaborate metaphor about how there are 146 options if someone is holding a gun to your head— Harvey was "considering the 145 options that narrow-minded young Mike hadn't thought about."

He wanted to protest that he wasn't narrow-minded but he figured that was a conversation for another time. Harvey then went over and had a hushed conversation with Donna, who got up and went to her desk, making phone calls and typing furiously on her computer.

"Let's go," Harvey said, pulling his jacket on and heading for the office door. Mike stared at him, confused as to what was going on. "Well, are you coming or not? You've already bled on my couch; I'm sure you'll have just as much fun bleeding on the upholstery in my car."

"Wait— you're coming with? I thought you were just going to give me the money," Mike said in bewilderment, dutifully following Harvey down the hall to the elevator.

Harvey stopped so abruptly at this that Mike crashed into him from behind and almost fell. Harvey turned quickly and grabbed Mike's arm before he could topple over and glared at him in a mixture of frustration and amazement.

"You seriously think I'm going to send a fourteen-year-old child off to negotiate with a bunch of violent potheads by himself? On his bicycle? Do I look like I want to go to jail for reckless endangerment of a minor?" Harvey asked sharply.

"Er— no?" Mike said uncertainly as they took the elevator down to the parking garage.

"You and I are going to be having a long talk tonight when this is all over," Harvey sighed as they got in the car, sounding even more exasperated than he did every day when he tripped over Mike's shoes in the hallway of the apartment, which meant that he was _really _exasperated.

What followed then was the singularly most awkward car ride of Mike's existence. They stopped by the park and picked Trevor up, and Mike reflected that Harvey's first impression of Trevor was probably not looking so good at this point. The three of them sat in complete silence. Mike nervously drummed his fingers on the armrest, feeling hyperaware of the tension between Harvey and Trevor.

When they finally arrived at Derek's house, Harvey firmly instructed Mike and Trevor to wait in the car. He ignored their protests and calmly walked up the front walk and up the steps of the house. He knocked and disappeared into the house with Derek. He emerged less than 10 minutes later with a very smug grin. He looked like Superman as he triumphantly strolled across the lawn and proceeded to casually take a phone call on the sidewalk for five minutes. Mike subtly cracked the car window and tried to eavesdrop— he could tell that Harvey was talking to Donna from the tone of his voice (he had a certain voice that he only used when bantering with his secretary) but he couldn't make out what was being said.

Harvey then climbed back into the car and asked for directions to Trevor's home, not mentioning anything that had happened in the house and deflecting all of Mike and Trevor's clamoring questions. When they arrived at Trevor's rundown little house, Harvey followed Trevor out of the car, flashing Mike a look that clearly said _wait here. _He and Trevor talked for about 10 minutes and the first five seemed to be comprised of Harvey in full out lecture and interrogation mode. Trevor looked suitably sheepish and shamefaced during this segment— Mike was glad that Trevor wasn't mouthing off to Harvey and was alarmed to think that he was probably facing the same lecture on a much larger scale when they got back to the apartment. He couldn't tell what else Harvey and Trevor talked about, but whatever it was must have been something good, because Trevor had first looked at Harvey disbelievingly before breaking into a huge grin and nodding furiously.

When Harvey got back in the car Mike continued to pester him for information but Harvey wouldn't budge.

"Oh, come _on, _Harvey. What's going on? What happened in the house? Why did you just call Donna? What were you telling Trevor?" He whined, insatiably curious.

"It's not too much fun being left in the dark, is it?" Harvey retorted coolly. Mike blushed and shut up for the rest of the car ride, trying to gauge how upset Harvey was with him for getting himself mixed up in this mess.

When they got back to the apartment, Harvey silently motioned for Mike to follow him. At this point Mike was too worried about facing Harvey's anger to disobey anything that the older man wanted him to do, so he acquiesced and followed Harvey to, of all the strange places in the world, the guest bathroom. He glanced around, baffled— was Harvey going to make him scrub the toilet as a punishment or something?

"Sit," Harvey said, pointing to the counter of the sink top. Mike hated when Harvey ordered him around like a disobedient puppy but obligingly hopped up on the sink nonetheless, swinging his legs to diffuse his excess anxiety.

"Harvey, I know that you love to look at yourself in the mirror, but couldn't we have taken a break from that and had this talk in the living room on the couch instead of in here? It's a bit more comfortable out there," Mike said nervously. He glanced in the mirror and winced— he already had a good shiner going, his cheek was swollen, and there was dried blood near the cut on his face and under his nose.

Harvey rolled his eyes and began rummaging around in the cabinets next to Mike's head. To Mike's utter bemusement, Harvey emerged holding some disinfectant wipes, antibiotic ointment, and a band-aid.

Mike froze, his breath caught in his throat, as Harvey stepped closer, reached out, and began wiping the blood off Mike's face with a disinfectant wipe. He worked quickly and effectively, his face serious and focused. Mike felt a funny ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the bruises littering his torso and face and had everything to do with the way that Harvey's hands gently rubbed ointment over his cut and smoothed the band-aid on over the tender skin. He tried to remember the last time someone had cleaned a cut or a scrape for him— probably not since his parents had died. The Jensens had been far more likely to cause Mike pain than to try to fix it and it upset Grammy when Mike was hurt so he generally tried to hide any injuries from her.

Harvey then pulled out a bottle of Tylenol and handed Mike a cup of water and two pills. "This will help with any soreness," he said calmly, and Mike was glad he wasn't making a big deal out of this.

"I could have done that myself," Mike said hoarsely. "But thanks," he managed to get out, still flabbergasted by Harvey's sudden display of nursing skills.

"And now we may adjourn to the couch as you've requested," Harvey declared imperiously, leaving a very mystified Mike still sitting on top of the sink. Mike scrambled after him and perched delicately on the edge of the couch, chewing determinedly on his lower lip.

"You can relax, Mike," Harvey sighed. "We've already talked about this; I'm not going to hit you. We're just going to talk for a bit," he said cautiously, adopting a tone that one might use when approaching an injured animal.

Mike nodded and stiffly leaned back on the couch to give the impression of relaxation. Harvey rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else about it.

"You're angry with me," Mike said quietly.

"You're damn right I'm angry with you," Harvey confirmed tightly. Mike got the impression that he was trying as hard as possible to control his temper so that Mike wouldn't freak out and panic like he had the week prior. "You showed up to my office bleeding all over the place and then started rambling about being attacked by drug dealers completely out of the blue. What were you _thinking_ getting involved in all of this?"

Mike just shrugged wordlessly, afraid to try to talk around the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. He studiously avoided Harvey's eyeline, hating the feeling of the heavy weight of Harvey's disappointment on his shoulders. It would be so much easier to bear if Harvey would just let loose and yell at him instead of looking at him like he had let him down and betrayed his trust.

They sat in silence for a minute and Harvey appeared to be gathering his thoughts and deciding what to say. Finally Mike couldn't stand it any longer.

"I'm sorry, Harvey! I'm sorry; really I am. I didn't mean to get mixed up in any of this. I just wanted to stay friends with Trevor and then one thing led to another and before I knew it I was getting chased around by angry druggies," Mike blurted out. "I wanted to tell you, honest! I felt like something was wrong but then I couldn't get the words out and I didn't know if you'd laugh at me because it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, and—"

"Alright, alright, Mike. One thing at a time," Harvey said, raising a hand to cut Mike off. He looked pensive for a moment. "Look, I know that you didn't mean to get involved in any of this but the fact still remains that you _did. _And then you didn't tell anyone about it and look where that got you. There could have been serious ramifications for your actions if I hadn't been there to get involved."

"I know, Harvey, and that's why I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to get involved. Don't worry; I won't tell Grammy or the child services people if they ask me what happened. I know that I could have gotten arrested and that would have made you look bad. I'm a reflection of you," Mike said, dutifully reciting one of the phrases Harvey liked to say when Mike emerged from his bedroom in the morning wearing ripped jeans or a particularly old hoodie. "And today I could have damaged your reputation. So I'm sorry and I want to thank you for helping me despite the fact."

Harvey stared at him. "You really think that's why I'm angry with you? Because you could have damaged my reputation by getting caught? Come on, kid, use your head. You and Trevor are lucky that it was just a bunch of college kids. If you two were ten years older and were dealing drugs on a larger scale those guys would have come after you with guns and cops instead of their fists and you would be scrambling around for a lot more than 500 dollars. I'm angry that you went out and almost got yourself seriously injured. Your life and your future is worth a lot more than a bunch of shitty laced weed," Harvey said seriously. "And yes, of course, I'm pissed that you might have gotten arrested. Your grandmother would have skinned me alive if I'd let you get yourself landed in juvie on my watch," he added quickly to counter the admission that he was concerned for Mike's wellbeing.

"You totally care-!" Mike crowed triumphantly. Harvey shook his head and cut in quickly.

"I never said that. You're putting words in my mouth," Harvey denied vehemently but Mike just laughed.

"Sure, whatever. Wait `til I tell Donna!"

"You tell Donna and I'll double your punishment," Harvey said gravely and Mike immediately sobered up, his thoughts returning to the grim topic at hand.

"Look, Mike, I'm only thirty. It wasn't so long ago that I was a teenager and I can remember what it was like. I know that you're going to make stupid decisions and want to go along with peer pressure. That's just a given. Yes, I'm disappointed that you went with Trevor on the drug deal but Trevor is a whole separate issue. Right now I want to talk about the real mistake that you made in this whole mess, which was not telling anyone about what was going on. I'm not saying that you should have told me specifically, but you should have told _someone_ if you felt like something was wrong. Your grandmother, Donna, a teacher— I don't care. I know that trust is hard for you what with all you've been through, but you've _got _to start trusting adults to take care of the big stuff for you. You're just a kid; you're not supposed to be running around trying to fix these situations and putting yourself in harm's way. Let the grownups take care of that," Harvey said, and Mike was impressed that he only sounding a little bit condescending when he said this.

"I can take care of myself," Mike said stubbornly.

"Yes, because that clearly worked out sowell in this situation. People who can take care of themselves _always _look like they've just been initiated into the Fight Club," Harvey said drily before continuing on more seriously. "Look, I know you can take care of yourself to a certain degree, but the fact remains that you're only 14. You don't have to. While you're living here with me, it's my responsibility to ensure your safety. The next time something happens that could lead to a potentially dangerous situation, you are going to come and find me and we'll deal with it. Understood?" Harvey said sternly.

Mike nodded. "I think that I trust you, Harvey. I want to trust you. It's just going to take me awhile to figure it out completely."

"Well, I'm not expecting you to just trust me on a whim. I know that things like that take time. But while you live here, you're my responsibility and I expect you to come to me for help," Harvey said, and it was a testament to how far they had come the past few weeks that Harvey only sounded a _little _awkward when openly taking an interest in Mike's welfare. His let's-talk-about-Mike's-emotions-and-past-issues talks were really starting to come along nicely.

_But what about when I don't live here anymore? _Mike wanted to ask, but refrained. That was something that he didn't want to talk about out loud because he didn't want to seem needy or desperate for Harvey's affection. Harvey was only doing this to win the McKinnon case, after all. He probably would never want to talk to Mike again when this was all over. Mike didn't blame him. He'd thought the same thing when he'd originally moved in— just get through the next three months and forget about it after. But now that he actually was staring to get to know Harvey the human being (who wore ugly sweats when working out, ate his breakfast cereal without milk, hummed while washing the dishes, and took naps on the couch while watching Star Trek) and not Harvey the cold, emotionless lawyer, he found that he actually kind of…_liked _living here at the apartment. But he refused to dwell on it further, even in the privacy of his own mind. It made him too sad and confused. Shouldn't he be counting down the hours until he could move back in with Grammy?

He was shaken from his heavy musings by his stomach's grumbling. Harvey checked his watch.

"I suppose it's probably about time we got some dinner," he said. "Let's go out; we can talk at this restaurant I have in mind."

"Oh goodie, more talking," Mike muttered under his breath, but he was excited by the prospect of food and quickly tied his shoes and grabbed his jacket.

"What was that? You don't want dinner tonight?" Harvey asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"What? No, I said that I love talking about my emotions. Where are we going? Will they let me in dressed like this?" Mike said, wondering what type of restaurant Harvey frequented in his free time. He hoped it wasn't going to be some typical Harveyish black-tie type of thing.

Harvey just smiled mysteriously and grabbed his keys off the counter. They got in the car and drove for about a couple of miles before Harvey pulled into a small parking lot in front of a hole-in-the-wall diner.

"A diner?" Mike asked, nonplussed. "Did giving Derek and Peter and Half-giant 500 dollars today bankrupt you?"

"Yes, because I _actually_ paid them off. The situation was so far out of my control that I had to capitulate to three teenage idiots and give them the money," Harvey scoffed sarcastically as they sat down in a booth. "No. Sometimes you just need to eat greasy food and this just happens to be the best place in the state to do it."

"You didn't pay them off? What happened in there, anyway?" Mike asked eagerly, scanning the menu and committing it to memory.

Harvey sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you? Fine. I told them that I was a lawyer and that you and Trevor were my clients. Then I told them that I was going to call the cops and report them for drug possession and assault. Of course, they weren't too happy about that. So then I told them that if I signed them on as clients then I couldn't legally testify against them. That sounded good to them. But my signing bonus is $500, which _coincidentally _happened to be the same amount of money that you guys owed them. So I told them we could call it even. I'm now on retainer for your college friends, although I don't think they'll be calling on my services anytime soon," Harvey said darkly, his voice dropping close to a growl and his eyes flicking to Mike's bruised and bandaged cheek. "I had a...strongly worded discussion with them and they won't be coming near you again." Mike wondered if Harvey realized how protective and... (dare he even think it?) paternal he sounded. "Anyway, you two are off the hook, and nobody paid any money so all's well that ends well."

"That's actually quite brilliant in its simplicity," Mike said, suitably impressed. He hoped that he'd be able to think that quickly on his feet one day.

"Well, they don't call me the best closer in New York for nothing," Harvey gloated.

"Do they actually call you that, though? Because I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that," Mike reflected skeptically and Harvey threw a sugar packet at his head.

"Are you boys behaving?" A pretty young waitress asked as she approached their booth, ducking quickly to avoid the Splenda packet that Mike tried to chuck at Harvey in retribution. Mike smiled guiltily at her.

She took their order and left, but not without shamelessly flirting with Harvey first after seeing his empty ring finger.

"Dude, she was totally hitting on you! Are you going to try to get her number?" Mike exclaimed the second she left the table.

"Don't call me dude," Harvey said scornfully. "And yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. I know she was flirting with me. Women want to date the best closer in New York. I'm not going to try to get her number, she's going to just give it to me," he said with his usual air of superiority.

"Hey, can I be your wingman?" Mike asked eagerly.

"Can you be my wingman? No. You can't even get into bars for another 7 years. And even when you're thirty you'll still be getting carded. This waitress thinks your about eleven years old right now. You'll see when she comes back," Harvey said and Mike pouted until the waitress came back with their food.

"Okay, sweetie. Be careful, the plate is very hot. Can I get you a glass of milk to go with your food? It'll help you grow tall and strong," the waitress said patronizingly to him. Mike scowled at her and determinedly avoiding looking at Harvey, who was without a doubt smirking at this.

"I don't want any milk, thanks," Mike said shortly. But the woman was determined.

"Are you sure? I bet your dad here wants you to drink milk so you can be strong like him someday," she cooed and it was Mike's turn to smirk. Harvey looked like he had just been clubbed over the head with a blunt object at the assumption by a complete stranger that he was old enough to be Mike's father. He assumed from the alarmed expression on Harvey's face that he was now having an age-related existential crisis.

"Yeah, Dad wants me to drink milk. But Mom is lactose intolerant so she doesn't make me do it," Mike said innocently. The waitress frowned at Harvey at the mention of "Mom" and hurried away.

"Yeah, she's definitely going to give you her number now, Mr. Best-closer-in-New-York," Mike crowed with laughter.

"You've officially lost any chance of ever gaining wingman privileges," Harvey said irritably, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. "Look, Mike, speaking of bad wingmen, we need to talk about Trevor."

Mike instantly sombered. "What about Trevor?" He asked cautiously. "What were you talking to him about on his lawn today?"

"Trevor is going to be moving to Montana to live with his older sister for a few months," Harvey said. "After you told me about her I had Donna get in contact with the private investigator I use to research clients sometimes. Vanessa was able to track her down very quickly and Donna called her while we were at Derek's house. It's all settled. His plane leaves in two days."

"Wait, what? You found Sara? But Trevor hasn't talked to her for _years_! Where has she been?" Mike exclaimed incredulously, choking on a mouthful of hash browns in shock.

"She apparently lives in Montana with her husband and their two young children," Harvey said, thumping Mike on the back until he could breathe. "And Vanessa is very good at her job— it took her less than fifteen minutes to find Sara's information. I didn't talk to her, but Donna called her and said afterwards that Sara seemed very willing to take Trevor in. She doesn't ever want to talk to their parents again but she feels bad about not being there for Trevor and wants to help him get his life back on track."

"Wow," Mike said. "Well, good for Trevor, I suppose. I know he misses Sara. But why are you sending him away?"

Harvey sighed. "I wish I didn't have to, kid. But Trevor's just an anchor weighing you down. It's time to cut him loose, and this is for his own good. He needs guidance, which his parents obviously aren't providing him with. But with Sara's help hopefully he'll be able to get his act together. I'm just trying to make sure that the two of you aren't college drop-outs or bums or wanted drug dealers in ten years. I owe your grandmother that much."

"And Trevor was excited to go? I mean, I saw he was smiling when you told him."

"Yes, I think he really was happy about it. He'll be okay in Montana. And you'll be okay here without him," Harvey said.

"I don't have any friends left now," Mike said morosely. He and Jenny weren't _that _good of friends; they mostly just talked because they had Trevor in common. And she was a popular cheerleader, she probably didn't want to be seen with dorky genius Mike Ross.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Theatrical. You'll be fine— you're pretty persistent when it comes to implanting yourself in other people's lives. Does your school have a legal society or a debate club or something? Why don't you join that? Or maybe the drama club," Harvey said absentmindedly as he paid the bill for the diner. The waitress came by and picked it up, blushing and determinedly not making eye contact with either of them.

"I'm not _that _dramatic," Mike said defensively as they headed towards the exit of the diner. He had never really thought about getting involved in school activities before.

"Why, hello, Mr. Specter! It's good to see you here; it's been awhile!" A booming voice exclaimed and Mike and Harvey turned to see a jolly looking middle-aged man wearing a tag that said _Manager _on it.

"Hello, David," Harvey said, shaking the man's hand. "It has been a long time. The food was as good as ever."

"Good to hear, good to hear," David said jovially before turning to Mike. "And who's this young man? Another little brother of yours, Harvey?"

Harvey looked a bit uncomfortable now. "No, he's just a…visiting cousin."

"Ah, I see. Harvey always brings his brother Paul here when he's in town. That's why I thought you were another brother. But I suppose you're a bit young for that. He's never brought anyone else here, you know," David said conversationally to Mike, and Harvey definitely looked uncomfortable now. Mike fought the urge to laugh and stood quietly as Harvey and David made polite small talk for a few moments.

"Not a word," Harvey said firmly as they got into the car later.

"Aww, Harv. It's nice to know that I'm just one of the family," Mike said cheekily. Harvey just glared at him.

They drove back to the apartment quietly; the silence punctuated only by the sound of Mike's occasional yawns. Now that the adrenaline had completely worn off and he wasn't worried about Harvey being enraged with his indiscretions of the day, he found it increasingly harder to stay awake.

He shuffled up to the apartment wearily behind Harvey. "Do you mind if I head to bed?" He asked, yawning.

"No, but first there's a few more things we need to talk about. I'm adding a few more rules to the 'tell me where you're going at all times' rule. First of all, no drug dealing. I should think that's a pretty obvious one. Second, no more hiding things that could come back to hurt you later. I'm not saying that you need to tell me all of your secrets or that I want to know about all of your girly teenage problems, but if you find yourself in a potentially dangerous situation I want to hear about it."

Mike bobbed his head in agreement, fighting off another yawn. He plodded over to the office door.

"Goodnight, Harvey. And thanks for your help today. I really am sorry," Mike said.

"Goodnight," Harvey said and then a slightly mischevious look crossed his face. "Oh, and one more thing, Mike. I think getting your face punched by a descendent of the Hulk was a pretty good punishment, but you're not totally off the hook yet. I thought about grounding you but then I came up with something else much better. For the next week when you're done with your homework, instead of wandering around my office distracting me and looking for something to do you'll be reporting to Louis's cubicle and you'll help him with whatever work he needs done until I'm ready to leave."

"Oh, come on, Harvey, really? _Louis? _Now that's just cruel and unusual punishment!" Mike howled in overly-dramatic protest. He closed the office door and collapsed on his bed. He could hear Harvey laughing at him from the other room and knew that he had been forgiven and this whole mess could be forgotten. Despite what a long and stressful day it had been, he fell asleep that night with a slight smile on his face, dreaming of Superman rushing in and saving him from the Incredible Hulk.

**So that's that! Crisis averted, courtesy of Harvey. I hope you guys enjoyed this; I had a hard time writing parts of it because it was hard to nail down a realistic reaction from Harvey. I also need to disclaim a little here- I ****stole some ideas from the episode in the first season where Harvey saves Trevor from the drug dealers aka how Harvey got Trevor and Mike off the hook without paying because I'm not smart enough to think up cool legal manuevers like Harvey. Also I know the diner scene was super random lol but I wanted to throw something in to break up all the dialogue and talking and lighten it up a little. Also I think the private investigator lady was named Vanessa but I'm not sure so I'm sorry if that's wrong. Next chapter we'll be seeing Edith again so get excited about that! Once again thanks for all the support and reviews; you guys are awesome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone! Sorry, I know it's been awhile since I've posted…gotta love RL haha. This chapter was kind of hard to write because it's really just kind of a filler before we get to Thanksgiving, Christmas, the trial, etc. Hopefully it's not too boring. This weekend I think I'm going to have to sit down and try to figure out what the hell is going on chronologically on the show and then finagle this story to fit with that…every week they keep revealing all this new information about the characters' backstories, which I love of course- but it always contradicts my plot! Lol but I'll try to get my ass in gear and write as quickly as possible. Anyway, onward! **

**CHAPTER 8: WORLD SPINS MADLY ON**

_**Woke up and wished that I was dead**_

_**With an aching in my head**_

_**I lay motionless in bed**_

_**I thought of you and where you've gone**_

_**And the world spins madly on**_

**From "World Spins Madly On" by the Weepies**

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _Harvey started at the strange noises emanating from the area near Louis's cubicle in the associate bullpen. He had just finished up with all of his work for the day and was on his way to find Mike, who was stilling serving out his punishment doing Louis's bidding for the week. It was Friday, however, so it was Mike's last day of his "imposed sentence to Guantanamo Bay" (Mike's words, not his). He had figured that Mike would be bouncing off the walls in excitement and waiting with bated breath for Harvey to come and get him, looking every bit like the overeager puppy that he so resembled. But there was no sign of Louis or Mike in the bullpen. Just the strange thunking sound.

He cautiously edged closer to the cubicle and peered over the top, rolling his eyes when he realized that Mike was, unsurprisingly, the person responsible for the noise. He was sitting in Louis's desk chair and lightly banging his forehead against the desk, looking bored out of his mind.

"Having fun?" Harvey asked, and Mike jumped about a foot in the air and almost fell off of Louis's swivel chair.

"Jesus, Harvey, don't _do _that!" Mike exclaimed, instinctually grabbing onto Harvey's arm to keep the chair from toppling over. This resulted in Harvey doing a weird and desperate sort of sidestep dance move to keep his balance. He glanced up and made eye contact with Donna, who was walking by on her way out of the building and saw the whole thing. Donna burst out laughing and he scowled fiercely in her direction, cursing Donna's timing and dreading the jokes that were certain to stem from this the next day.

"Sorry," Mike said, quickly letting go of Harvey upon seeing his frown. "Thank goodness it's you; I thought you were Louis coming to give me more work for a second there," he said lightly. "I've just finished reading the Graham contract and I think I've found Louis a loophole but I didn't want to tell him yet because I knew he'd just give me another project. I'll leave him a note. Thank god this week is over. It is over, right?" Mike asked, looking up from the post-it note he was scrawling on, his expression one of utter concern that Harvey might suddenly decide to punish him for another week.

"I don't know," Harvey said, completely straightfaced. "Have you done anything that merits spending more time with Louis?"

"No!" Mike said quickly. "What could I have gotten into that would merit that? My room— er, I mean the office, of course, is only a bit messy, I swear!"

"Alright, alright. The prisoner will be released on parole," Harvey conceded. "Come on."

Mike stood and gathered his jacket and backpack. "Hallelujah. I swear, Harvey, I don't know how much longer I would have lasted hanging out around here. You know, I thought that you had the worst taste in art and interior decorating out of anybody I've ever met but it turns out I was wrong. Look at this," Mike said, gesturing to the admittedly ridiculous pictures the Louis kept of himself on his desk. "It's much worse than that picture of the creepy doll being eaten by that green animal you have."

"I'll have you know that that is a perfectly respectable piece of art and that everyone loves that picture—" Harvey began defensively as they started walking towards the elevators.

"Everybody hates it, Harvey. I was bored on Tuesday so I took a poll of everyone I know who works here. On a scale of _I hate that picture, it gives me nightmares _to _why the hell does Harvey even own that thing? _100% of the sample population possessed negative feelings towards that doll-girl-thing," Mike chattered as they walked. Harvey let him continue rambling unchecked, allowing Mike's voice to wash over him and take the edge off his exhausted brain. It had been a long week; he had been busy working on a case for the CEO of a bicycle company that had made a faulty bike model and was trying to cover his tracks so he didn't have to pay people off. But people had gotten hurt because of the faulty merchandise (Harvey may or may not have surreptitiously taken a look at Mike's beloved bike just to make sure that it wasn't the defective model he was working with by some obscure chance— knowing Mike's luck it _would _be the recalled bike and the kid would be riding along one day and both of the wheels would fall off at the same time and then Harvey would be left with the daunting task of explaining to Edith that Mike had died falling off his bike and into oncoming traffic). Harvey knew that he was on the wrong side of the ethics table here. He felt badly about it, but there wasn't much he could do besides what the client wanted him to do. The client had promised Harvey that he hadn't known the bike was defective before it hit the market but Harvey wasn't sure if he could be trusted. Unfortunately that was the nature of corporate law sometimes, however; working with deuschy clients that just wanted money.

But just because Harvey had to work with corrupt businessmen didn't mean that Mike had to as well. Fortunately, Mike's decision to foolishly throw himself into the world of drug dealing had coincided with this case and Harvey had thought to ask Louis to take Mike on for the week. He didn't want the kid getting jaded and cynical at the age of 14, and Louis had, of course, enthusiastically accepted Harvey' offer of Mike so it had all worked out well. Harvey had listened to Mike complain about his experiences working for the annoying associate every night. But he had heard from Louis and several of the other associates that Mike was doing incredible work and he couldn't deny that he felt a little proud (although he didn't know why exactly; it wasn't like Mike was his kid or anything— still, if you were going to get backed into a corner and have to take a kid in, Harvey figured that it was all the better if that kid happened to be a certifiable genius and not some typical rude, sex-crazed teenager).

But now that he was done with his case and Mike was done with his punishment things could go back to normal. He had to admit that he was looking forward to resuming the status quo of the office next week. Not that he would ever tell Mike that, though. The kid would probably accuse him of _missing _him or something equally as ridiculous and embarrassing.

"— and did you know that Louis is super into ballet? I walked in on him practicing leaps and pirouettes in the bathroom the other day; scarred me for life. And then after he deposed a witness today he told her that she had just gotten 'Litt up' which is the lamest thing I've ever heard. And then he kept saying it all afternoon. You might want to recommend that he gets drug tested if he's using catchphrases like that, Harvey—" Mike continued to ramble, climbing blindly into the car next to Harvey.

"— did you know that Louis plays tennis? He wanted to take me with him to the tennis club to meet a client, some guy named Kellerman or something, but then one of the associates told me that Louis routinely strips down to a towel in the locker room of the country club and I hid behind a plant in the lobby for an hour so I wouldn't have to go with him— hey, where are we going?" Mike asked, suddenly noticing that Harvey was driving the opposite direction of the apartment.

"I need to talk to your grandmother about the deposition for the trial. I trust you're amenable to coming along?" Harvey said casually. Truth be told, he probably could have just called Edith and discussed it on the phone but he knew that Mike hadn't gotten to see Edith all week because he had spent each day after school helping Louis due to his punishment. Not to mention the kid had had to say goodbye to his best friend last week and though he hadn't outwardly been showing it, Harvey knew that Mike was already missing Trevor. So he figured maybe a visit with Edith would cheer him up.

"Really?! Awesome; I haven't seen Grammy all week," Mike exclaimed, beaming at Harvey, who couldn't deny that he felt a little bit good somewhere deep down for putting a smile on the kid's face.

A few turns later and they were at the nursing home. Harvey had never been there, despite his intentions to visit and talk to Edith for a few weeks now. He followed Mike, who clearly knew exactly where he was going. All of the staff knew him and greeted him by name, asking how he was and where he had been the past few days.

Mike answered all of them genially but practically dragged Harvey to Edith's room, bursting with excitement. He knocked and quickly flung open the door, rushing over to embrace his grandmother.

Edith was looking much better than the last time Harvey had seen her— she was out of bed and dressed and her color looked good. She was sitting in a wheelchair by the window playing checkers with an elderly gentleman.

"Michael! How are you, dear? Oh, and you've brought the elusive Harvey Specter with you, I see," Edith declared, giving Mike a warm hug and beckoning Harvey into the room. "This is Mr. Henry Morris, my neighbor. Henry, this is my grandson Michael and my lawyer Harvey," Edith introduced them all and polite handshakes were exchanged all around.

"Michael, what happened to your eye, dear?" Edith asked and Harvey fought the urge to roll his eyes as Mike paled dramatically and stared at Harvey with wide eyes. _Subtle._

"I, uh…got elbowed in the face in gym class last week. But it's almost all better, see?" Mike stammered, indicating his right cheek, which did in fact look much better. The cut had healed completely and all that remained was a faded yellowish bruise.

"I see," Edith said, but her gaze lingered on Harvey a fraction of a second longer than was normal. Harvey fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably at this visible proof of his failure as a guardian. Mike had gotten hurt on his watch and now Edith knew about it. If he had just been a bit more attentive maybe he'd have noticed that something was up with the kid and then maybe he would have been able to deal with the situation before it escalated and Mike getting beaten up happened… and now Mike's face held tangible proof of his negligence. Edith seemed to sense Harvey's self-deprecating thoughts because she turned to Mike.

"Mike, I've been holding poor Mr. Morris captive here all evening playing checkers and he was just about to leave when you two showed up. Could you escort him back to his room, please? And he has a pretty neat collection of books. Maybe you can see if there's something there that you haven't read yet," Edith said conversationally.

Mike agreed eagerly and helped Mr. Morris stand and patiently walked beside him as the elderly man struggled with his walker, practically quivering with excitement at the thought of new books. Harvey shook his head at the kid as he left. It was baffling how Mike could be so mature and do work that associates that graduated from Harvard struggled with and then suddenly switch to acting like a child on Christmas morning, over literature of all things.

Now left alone with Edith, Harvey struggled to come up with a way to apologize for Mike getting hurt without revealing the whole story about the drugs.

"Don't worry, Harvey," Edith said kindly, clearly not having believed Mike's story. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, whatever it was that _really _happened to Mike's face."

"Well, it wasn't directly my fault. But if I had been a bit more attentive it might not have happened," Harvey said stiffly.

"Oh, nonsense! You can't smother teenage boys, you know. If you just followed Mike around all the time waiting for him to get hurt or mess up he'd hate you. I'm certain that you were plenty attentive. You don't strike me as one to do things half-heartedly. I trust that you're giving Mike all the attention you can spare," Edith said forgivingly. "And I trust that you've dealt with the problem?" She continued, a hint of steel in her voice.

"It's all taken care of," Harvey promised. "And it won't happen again."

"Good, good. I won't interrogate you further about what happened. I trust your judgment. Anyway, how are things going for the two of you? Mike seemed uncertain the first week or so but he's been much happier the past few weeks. In fact, I can't remember the last time I've seen him so carefree. He's finally acting a bit more like a normal teenager," Edith said happily. "I owe you my thanks for that."

"You're welcome, but I haven't really done anything. I mean, I work a lot. And then we just eat take out and watch TV. It's probably not the healthiest lifestyle," Harvey explained. He was all about bragging when he had succeeded at something but he really couldn't take credit for Mike's apparent transformation.

"Oh, you've done something all right. You've finally gotten him to trust someone besides me. You should hear him when he visits me. It's always 'Harvey said this' or 'Harvey did that.' He really looks up to you, I think. And especially now that you're letting him help you with your work. I believe it's the first time that he's gotten to truly challenge himself and put his mind to the test. You've done that boy a world of good," Edith explained passionately.

Harvey didn't really know what to say to that. "Well, I can hardly take much credit. You've done most of the work raising him the past three years. He talks about you all the time."

"Yes, I know he cares deeply for me. But he needs someone like you in his life. There's only so much I can do now that I'm getting older. The generational gap between Michael and I is too wide a lot of the time— I can't really understand and sympathize with any of the problems he faces because I'm so far removed from them. But you, on the other hand…you just keep doing what you've been doing, Harvey Specter, and you'll be fine," Edith said.

"I'll try," Harvey promised. Edith nodded in satisfaction at this and the conversation turned to the trial, which was set to begin January 15th, about two months in the future. Edith was going to be deposed after Thanksgiving, and Harvey gave her the details on it and what to expect. It was to take place at the rehab center because Edith wasn't well enough to travel yet. They chatted about how the case was going until Mike bounded back into the room clutching two very old-looking books. Harvey could tell that Mike was in a much better mood than he had been and decided that this visit had been a very good idea as he sat and listened to Mike and his grandmother talk.

And as he listened to Mike ramble about the new books Henry Morris had given him later that night during dinner, Harvey realized that for the first time in two weeks, he didn't feel an intense surge of guilt when looking at Mike's bruised cheek. Turns out visiting Edith had been beneficial for him too.

(SUITS)

Now that Mike was done working with Louis and had some free time on his hands, he realized that he really missed Trevor. He couldn't help it; they had been best friends for years. And even though he hadn't seen Trevor much since high school began, he had always been able to call him or go find him at his locker if he wanted to talk. But now Trevor was far away in Montana and Mike's social life was looking pretty pathetic. It didn't really help matters that he was currently living with the world's biggest recluse. He wondered if Harvey had any real friends besides Donna and Jessica. Other than them he seemed to have a long string of women that he went out with for one night, slept with, and then never saw again. He wondered if Harvey ever got lonely. Maybe he should take up a hobby or something…did Harvey even have hobbies? Mike realized that there was a lot that he didn't know about his guardian. He knew that Harvey liked baseball, cars, and women, but that hardly set him apart from most other men in any way. He was from Chicago and Mike thought he might have heard Donna mention that he had a brother but he wasn't sure. That was literally all he knew about the older man. And just how old was he anyway? Mike had tried to find out but was met with little success.

_"So, Harvey," Mike had said casually one night during dinner when they had just finished a spirited debate about which Batman was the best (they settled on Keaton). "Where were you when John F. Kennedy died?"_

_Harvey had blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "That was hardly an appropriate transition, Mike. And I wasn't alive in 1963, obviously. How old do you think I am?" Harvey had looked alarmed at the assumption that he might have been born anywhere near that year._

_"I'm not asking how old you are, Harvey. That would be rude, after all. It's for a…history project. So where were you when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon?" He had ventured. _

_"You're ridiculous," Harvey had said, carrying his dinner plate over to the sink. "I'm going to the gym and we're not discussing my age anymore," he had said, and he refused to talk about it further as he gathered his work-out bag. _

_"What about the Watergate Scandal?" Mike had shouted hopefully as Harvey left, but he was met with silence and a shoe that Harvey threw in his general direction. _

So that was really all he had— his grandmother, Donna, and Harvey, who he really knew nothing about. And not that that wasn't enough, but he really needed to augment his circle of friends and meet someone his own age. Maybe he should take Harvey's advice and get involved in something at school— not the drama club obviously, but maybe debate? After all, what was the worst thing that could happen; not making any friends on the debate team? Oh wait, that had already happened to him before. His whole life, actually.

So, not having anything to lose, he made up his mind to give it a go. The next day at school he stopped by the bulletin board where all the clubs and teams hung up their posters and event notices. There was an eccentric-looking girl standing there and aggressively handing out fliers to everyone who passed by whether they wanted them or not.

"Would you like to join the knitting club?" She asked Mike, and handed him a flier, a pamphlet, and a ball of purple yarn without waiting for a response. Mike scanned all the posters quickly, committing the information to memory. He suspected that he was going to have to make a quick break for it to escape the clutches of this girl.

"Er, no thanks," He said, trying to give the yarn back with no success.

"Oh, come on, don't be fooled by the name Knitting Club. We accept crocheters, too. We're very open-minded!" She exclaimed and Mike tried to back away nervously.

"Sorry, Gretchen. He's coming with me to the legal society meeting. No knitting today," A new voice said. Mike turned to see a very pretty girl with long brown hair standing behind him. The newcomer grabbed Mike's arm and gently pulled him away. Mike quickly thrust the papers and yarn back in Gretchen's hands and followed his savior to a deserted hallway.

"Come back! We're making hats with pom-poms today," Gretchen shouted after them. The girl giggled.

"Hey, thanks for saving me back there," Mike said fervently once they were far away enough to not be overheard.

"No problem. Gretchen's nice, but she can be a bit…intense. You don't really look like the type to be interested in knitting, either," the girl said.

"Good, I'm glad that someone thinks so. That was a serious blow to my self-confidence, her assuming automatically that I was into that kind of stuff," Mike laughed.

"I'm Rachel. Rachel Zane," the girl said, holding her hand out for Mike to shake.

"I'm—" Mike began, taking Rachel's hand.

"You're Mike Ross," she finished for him. "I've heard about you. You're the genius freshman, right? I'm a sophomore and all the upperclassmen were taking about how good you are at…well, everything."

"Yeah, I suppose that's me. Thanks again for saving me," Mike said, wanting to escape now that she had brought up his intelligence. She probably just wanted to use him to cheat on tests for her like the other upperclassmen.

"Hey, where are you going? I save you and then you're just going to dip out on me? No way; you owe me. Come to the legal society with me. We're having a mock trial and I'm sure you'd be good at it," she said.

Mike couldn't really argue with that; he did owe her. "Alright," he said slowly. "Am I allowed to just join in the middle of the year like this?"

"Yes, of course. It's just for fun. Now come with me or I'll call Gretchen back here and abandon you," Rachel said, pulling him along to an English classroom where the club met. Mike didn't want to be thrown back into the clutches of the knitting club so he squared his shoulders and followed Rachel into the legal society meeting.

When Mike emerged two hours later he was a full-fledged member of the legal society and he had found a new friend. Rachel had confessed that she, too, wanted to be a lawyer someday but was worried because she had a lot of test anxiety and didn't test well. Mike promised to help her study. In return, Rachel had revealed that she was a foodie and loved to cook. She had promised to come over and give Harvey and Mike a lesson on cooking basics sometime in the near future. This gave Mike a light, buoyant feeling of promise— of having a new friend _and _of possibly getting to eat a decent home-cooked meal.

Everyone in the legal society had been very nice too, except for Trevor's friends Kyle and Gregory. They somehow knew that Mike was the reason that Trevor had gone to Montana and now hated him for it. There had been a kid named Harold who was very nice, albeit a little strange and overly-anxious. But both Rachel and Harold seemed like promising prospects for new friends, and Rachel in particular.

As he rode his bike to the office he thought about all of the different people that had entered and left his life over the past month— Trevor was gone and so was Grammy in a way because she wasn't around on a day-to-day basis. But he had Harvey and Donna and now Rachel and maybe Harold. Although he felt terrible that Grammy had been injured, he couldn't help but be grateful for all that had happened to him in the past month. And he couldn't help but be nervous for what the next two months would bring. But for now, time was spinning on and things were starting to look up.

(SUITS)

Thanksgiving was drawing closer and with it came winter. The air began to grow sharper and thinner; the last leaves of the trees lost their battle against Mother Nature and fell. People on the streets of Manhattan hurried even more than usual to get inside where it was warm. It was harder for Mike to get up in the morning. He hated leaving the warmth of his comforter to make the frigid dash to the warm shower in the bathroom, but he liked winter in general.

But when the first frost came he wasn't terribly thrilled. He lived much farther away from school now that he was staying with Harvey and riding his bike to school was going to be a real bitch in the cold weather. When he lived with Grammy, he and some of the other neighborhood kids whose families were too poor to afford cars would bike as fast as they could to the public school or they would get up extra early on the coldest days to take the school bus. But the bus didn't come all the way out to Harvey's apartment. So Mike awoke on the day of the first frost, looked out the window, and groaned so loudly that Harvey actually came to check if he was all right (Harvey played it off of course and claimed that he had only entered Mike's room to make sure it wasn't the radiator making noises, but he had rushed over a little too quickly for it to have genuinely been concern over a potentially broken heating system).

He had then sprinted past a befuddled Harvey to get to the shower as quickly as possible and soaked in the hot water for so long that Harvey tapped on the door and asked if he had drowned himself. When he emerged, his hair dripping and his face flushed with heat, he rushed over to the kitchen and scarfed down some toast before grabbing his backpack and shoes and the light jacket that he had been wearing all fall. He wanted to leave early so that he had time to sit in the library and defrost a little before class.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harvey asked as Mike mumbled a muffled goodbye through his mouthful of toast.

"School?" Mike said questioningly. He had thought it rather obvious, as he was carrying a backpack and he and Harvey went through this same morning routine every school day. "It's not a Saturday, is it?" Mike asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him. He wracked his mind but kept coming up with Tuesday as the day of the week and not Saturday. Plus Harvey was fully dressed and had his hair styled already. Whenever he went in to work on the weekend he waited until at least eight or nine in the morning to get dressed and then leisurely made his way over to Pearson Hardman.

"No, it's not Saturday," Harvey said in exasperation. "But it is 25 degrees outside."

"Yeah, I'm not really seeing the alleged connection between school and the temperature here. You do know that they hold class inside where there's heat, right? They're not going to cancel school for 25 degree weather," Mike said, puzzled.

"No, not that," Harvey said, rolling his eyes. "Your _jacket."_

"What's wrong with my jacket?" Mike asked, feeling like he was playing some sort of obscure guessing game.

"That's all you're going to wear to school in this weather?" Harvey asked.

"Er—yeah, I suppose. Why— do you care about me staying warm? How sweet of you," Mike grinned, trying to make Harvey uncomfortable with his talk of caring and distract him.

"No," Harvey grumbled defensively. "I just don't want to have to listen to you complain when you get frostbite or pneumonia. Not to mention the ensuing hospital bill," Harvey shuddered dramatically and it was Mike's turn to roll his eyes.

"This is my only jacket," he admitted, not looking at Harvey. "I outgrew my old heavy winter coat last year." (He had actually owned that coat since before his parents died and had literally worn it out until there were more holes in it than intact fabric. Grammy had done her best to mend it but it had lost its warmth, not to mention that it was too small. But heavy down coats were awfully expensive, so Grammy had said that they would set aside money to buy a new one this year, which hadn't happened yet for obvious reasons).

"All right, well I'll have to give you a ride to school today then," Harvey declared, standing up and compiling everything he needed for work. He disappeared into his bedroom for a moment and came back out carrying a dark red knit hat which he wordlessly handed to Mike, who took it and stared at it blankly. It was made of expensive wool and was probably more valuable than all of his other clothes combined.

"It goes on your head," Harvey said with an air of false patience.

"But aren't we driving to school? We'll just be sitting in the warm car the whole time. Why do I need a hat?" Mike asked. Harvey disregarded this and grabbed the hat and pulled it on Mike's head over his wet hair so that it completely obscured his vision. Mike scowled and adjusted it so he could see.

"Because knowing your luck you'll somehow catch a middle-ear infection in the time it takes you to walk from the car into school and like I said before; I don't want to listen to you hacking up your lungs when I'm trying to sleep at night or pay any medical bills," Harvey explained. "Now come on; I have a meeting with George Stanopolous, one of the other witnesses in the McKinnon trial, in an hour. He's being deposed today."

This caught Mike's interest and they discussed the progress of the case on the drive to school. Harvey was confident that everything was going well; Grammy was going to be deposed the week after Thanksgiving. When they arrived at school, Mike said goodbye and made to get out of the car but stopped when he saw Harvey squinting at the clock and then at the school.

"What?" Mike asked, trying not to sound impatient.

"Have you been biking this far every morning to get to school?" Harvey asked.

"Uh, yes. It's not like the school has moved farther away or something. It's always been right here," Mike said, wondering what was going with Harvey today. He had never been asked so many dumb questions in his life.

"Well, you're not going to be able to bike this far when it starts snowing. I need to get a personal driver or something," Harvey sighed. "All right, get out of here before you make me late. I'll be back here at three to pick you up."

With that they went their separate ways for the day. True to his word, Harvey pulled up in front of the school at exactly three o'clock. Mike clambered quickly into the car in an attempt to escape from Gretchen, who had come up to him and tried to ask him if he had knitted the hat that Harvey had given him that morning while he had pulled the hat down over his eyeline and tried to edge away nervously.

They discussed the deposition; apparently it had gone well. George had been able to highlight several safety issues that he had seen during his time at McKinnon, and the facts of his injury had all checked out. It seemed like a pretty solid case at the moment, although Harvey was uneasy that things were going just a little bit _too _well. He had expected McKinnon to put up much more of a fight and he told Mike that it was setting him on edge that the deposition had gone so well today. They both lapsed into a thoughtful silence, wondering what McKinnon could have up their sleeves.

"Hey, this isn't the way back to the office," Mike brightened suddenly upon realizing this. "Wait, are we going to a meeting? Do I get to come? Am I going to get to meet a real client?"

Harvey looked at Mike like he was barely refraining from snorting. "No. How would I introduce you, exactly? As my associate? I don't think so. Most people don't want legal advice from a puppy-child. Sorry, kid. Maybe in ten years."

"Well then where are we going?" Mike said huffily, trying not to pout at this.

"You'll see in a moment," Harvey said mysteriously before pulling into an upscale shopping mall.

"Shopping? Really? Because I don't want any three-piece suits or smoking jackets. Just clarifying if you didn't already know," Mike said nervously. Harvey was behaving very erratically today in his opinion and he didn't want to wind up being dressed like a mini-Harvey Specter and sent to school. He'd never live it down.

"For someone so smart you can be pretty obtuse," Harvey sighed, leading Mike into a fancy department store. They cut through several racks of men's casual clothes before arriving at the outerwear.

"No way, Harvey. Nope," Mike said firmly as comprehension dawned on him, shaking his head.

"What, you don't want a new jacket? You'd rather run around with hypothermia all winter?" Harvey said skeptically, calling over an overeager young sales associate who immediately began trying to measure Mike and hand him jackets upon jackets upon jackets. Really, really, really nice winter jackets that were really, really, really expensive.

"_Harvey," _Mike hissed emphatically. "I can't afford any of these. Can't we just go to Walmart or something?"

"Who says you're paying for the jacket?" Harvey asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Look, you can't buy this for me. I can't pay you back!" Mike exclaimed loudly, causing the sales associate to drop three jackets in surprise.

"Who says you have to pay me back? Where are you getting these ideas from?" Harvey asked.

"Look, Harvey, just because you're rolling in money doesn't mean the rest of us are. And I don't want your charity. Keep your money. I'd rather go naked and freeze all winter than owe you—" Mike checked the price tag on the jacket the sales associate had forced on him. "—300 dollars for a stupid jacket!" He was acutely aware of the fact that he was shouting and probably causing a scene. Harvey looked taken aback at this sudden outburst. He dragged Mike over to a corner of the store, his eyes wide with confusion.

"Alright, what the hell is wrong with you? You're being ridiculous," Harvey said, his tone soft and insistent.

Mike blushed. He didn't know why he was freaking out so much. "Look, Harvey, I don't need an expensive jacket. If I can't pay you back for it then I don't want it. Grammy and I are already struggling to make ends meet. It's nice of you to offer, but I can't accept," he said stiffly.

"Bullshit," Harvey said. "That's bull. We've had this talk already— while you're living with me you're my responsibility. That means that I'm legally required to provide you with food, shelter, and _clothing. _When you move back with your grandmother I don't care what you do with your coat— you can sell it, you can donate it; hell, you can burn it for all I care, although I hope you'd just keep it and continue to use it. But while you're living with me you're going to have a new jacket and you're going to wear it. It's not charity— it's me doing my job as a legal guardian. Now you're going to stop throwing a tantrum and we're going to pick a jacket and you're going to wear it without feeling guilty or obligated to pay me back, understood?" Harvey said sternly. "Otherwise I'll force you to work for Louis all winter long."

"Okay, okay. Look, I just can't help but feel bad. I'm sorry; I don't want to seem ungrateful because I am grateful; really I am. But I'm still growing- you don't have to buy me a nice jacket. I'll be fine," Mike protested, but he knew he had lost because it was impossible for him to disobey Harvey when Harvey used that tone of voice and looked at him with that penetrating stare that made him feel like Harvey was reading his mind. Not to mention the threat of Louis had him hurrying to obey. So he followed Harvey back to the nervous sales associate and Mike dutifully tried on jackets until they came upon a simple black one that both Harvey and Mike approved of (Harvey wouldn't let Mike look at the price tags and ripped the them off immediately after buying it).

It wasn't until later when they got back to the apartment and Mike hung up his brand new coat (the nicest article of clothing he'd ever owned) and profusely thanked Harvey for the purchase that he realized that he had just been closed by the great Harvey Specter without even realizing it. But as he sat down to watch Dr. Who and eat pasta with Harvey, filled with a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his new jacket, he decided that he really didn't mind.

**Yeah I know that there wasn't much of a plot to that…but it had to be done to move the story along. Oh, and I don't have anything against knitting or crocheting, I find both to be very therapeutic activities but I don't think most teenage boys would relish being asked to join a knitting club lol. For anyone who really doesn't like Rachel, don't worry— the focus of this story will continue to be on Mike and Harvey and not Mike and Rachel. They'll just be friends; I thought it'd be fun to try to work her into the plot. And I don't know if she's older than Mike or not but in my mental canon she's a year older than him, but who really knows. Does anyone know officially how old Harvey and Mike are in the show? Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon and it'll be a bit more eventful! Once again, thanks for the kind reviews, favorites, etc. **


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9: YOUTH**

_**And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones**_

_**Because most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone. **_

_**We're setting fire to our insides for fun**_

_**Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home**_

_**It was a flood that wrecked our home.**_

_**From "Youth" by Daughter**_

**Hi everyone! Thanks for all the input on Mike and Harvey's ages—I think the general consensus was that Mike is about 27 and Harvey's about 37 or 38 which seems right. I've figured the timeline for this story out— it takes place in 2007, because that's when canon Harvey becomes a junior partner and that's the impetus driving the general plot of this story. So according to canon he would be about 32 and Mike would be about 22 in 2007—in this story they're 30 and 14, which is the main difference. *Spoiler alert: I've also changed when Harvey's dad dies. In this story, he died right before Harvey made senior associate, so a year earlier than in canon. Otherwise he'd have just died in this story when Harvey makes junior partner. Oh and if you're a non-American or a non-Thanksgiving celebrator, a Turkey Bowl is when you play football (American, not soccer) on Thanksgiving with your friends and family. Writing this chapter really made me wish it was Thanksgiving haha mmmm pumpkin pie. **

Mike was aware of the fact that Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching but he hadn't really given much thought to what the holiday would entail this year. As a little boy he would always go with his parents to a homeless shelter very early Thanksgiving morning and they would help out and serve breakfast. Then they would go home and Mike, his dad, and his grandpa would watch football on the couch while his mom and Grammy cooked in the kitchen. They would have a huge meal and watch Christmas movies on the couch until late at night (Mike's dad had usually wound up carrying him to bed). Although it had always been a very small, quiet holiday for the Ross family it had always been one of his favorites. In his darkest moments of grief after his parents' and grandfather's deaths, he had clung to the memories of love, warmth, and security surrounding Thanksgiving.

He had spent the first Thanksgiving after his parents' deaths with the Jensens where he had sat numbly on the couch staring silently at the wall for hours as his many foster siblings ran around and wrestled in the dirty, overcrowded house. When he had been called to help put supper on the table, one of the other kids had bumped his arm and he had dropped a china dish of mashed potatoes and broken it. He was sent to bed without dinner and cried himself to sleep (he remembered thinking that it was fortunate that Mr. Jensen was so drunk or he would have gotten a walloping on top of being denied supper). Needless to say, it had not been the most cheerful of times and he cringed to even think about it now. The two subsequent Thanksgivings with Grammy had been uneventful— they had slept in instead of going to the shelter (too many memories) and they had had a quiet meal by themselves, talking endlessly to try and fill in the gaping empty spaces that had previously been sealed up with family and happiness.

But Thanksgiving with Harvey on the other hand…well, he really had no idea what to expect. Would Harvey want to go out of town to visit his family? Would Harvey ship him off to spend the day with Grammy? Maybe Harvey would just go into Pearson Hardman on Thanksgiving— he seemed the type to work on the holidays. Mike was contemplating this so deeply one afternoon in Harvey's office that he didn't notice Harvey approach nor did he see the football that Harvey threw at him until it hit him in the arm and bounced onto the glass coffee table.

"Ow! What the hell was that, Harvey?" He yelped indignantly, rubbing his upper arm. It didn't really hurt because Harvey had tossed it from about five feet away, but it had still taken him by surprise.

"It's called a football, genius. And you're supposed to _catch _it, like any other projectile that's headed right for you," Harvey sighed.

"I know what a football is, Harvey," Mike protested. "What I meant was 'why did you just throw a football at me in your precious office where you yell at me on a daily basis for passive activities like eating yogurt or putting my feet up on the table?' It just seems like a bit of a double-standard to tell a guy that he can't eat a pudding cup on the leather couch and then to chuck a football at the same guy in an office that _has glass windows_."

"You've got a fair point there," Harvey replied thoughtfully. "If you throw that thing in here I'm sure something will be irreparably damaged. Come on, grab your coat. Let's go," Harvey grabbed his own jacket and made to leave the office. Mike remained stationary on the couch, staring at Harvey blankly.

"You know, you have this terrible habit of assuming that I can read your mind and understand exactly what you want me to do and why you want me to do it, but I actually can't," Mike said conversationally.

"Alright, smartass. Very funny, now come on," Harvey said in exasperation. He picked up Mike's coat and thrust it into his arms, all the while impatiently tugging him into a standing position. "I'll explain when we get there."

Mike knew that Harvey would keep harassing him until he did what the older man wanted, so he resignedly followed his guardian to the car. Harvey stopped by the bathroom in the office lobby on the way and changed into jeans and a fleece sweatshirt, much to Mike's utter amazement. He had seen Harvey dressed casually plenty of times at the apartment but had never seen him go out in public without a suit on.

They drove to a field where Harvey parked the car and wordlessly got out. Mike copied his actions, rolling his eyes. "You know that you haven't actually explained anything about why we're here, right? Look, I remember you mentioning once that your kindergarten report card said that you 'didn't play well with other children'; did it happen to say anything about your complete lack of communication skills?"

"Catch," Harvey said simply by way of explanation, tossing the football to Mike, who caught it this time.

"You stopped working early, went around in public without a suit, and dragged me out here in the cold just to play _catch_?" Mike said incredulously. "Have you suffered a head injury recently?"

"For your information, this game of catch _does _have a purpose and it's work-related. Have you heard of Vince Schultz?" Harvey asked, moving so that he and Mike were standing an appropriate distance apart to continue passing the ball.

"Yeah, sure. CEO of that one energy drink company, right?" Mike replied, tossing the ball back to Harvey. It fell slightly short and Harvey had to lunge forward to grab it.

"Yep. Not just any energy drink company, though— one that's worth billions of dollars. Jessica is trying to bring him into the firm, but he's a tough nut to crack. Real big on family values and that kind of thing. So I met with him yesterday morning and got him to invite us to his family's annual Turkey Bowl on Thanksgiving. If we play it up a little then I'm sure he'll see that our firm is the type of firm he wants to be at," Harvey said, holding the ball and waiting for Mike's reaction.

"'Us' as in you and I?" Mike asked.

"Well… yes. I might have told him that I have a son who enjoys football," Harvey said cautiously. "Just don't completely fail at football and we'll be fine. It's only for a few hours…" Harvey was saying but Mike wasn't listening because his mind was back in the past, remembering a time that was far simpler and yet still complicated in its own regard.

_"Pete, you know that I wish you would stop putting so much pressure on Mike to play football and baseball. Sports are never going to be his thing and you need to accept that. It simply doesn't interest him. Why can't you focus on the things that he's good at? Our son is a genius and you go around acting like you're disappointed in him just because he doesn't want to play catch with you!" Mike's mom exclaimed, her voice angry. She obviously didn't know that 9-year-old Mike was hiding in the hallway and listening in on their conversation in the kitchen or she wouldn't be talking so loudly. _

_"It's not my fault if I'm a little disappointed that my son doesn't want to play catch with me! That's what fathers and sons are supposed to do! Look, Mari, you know that I love Mike to death but I just don't know how to connect with him. Sports aren't his thing, books aren't mine. I just wish he'd give it another try. Maybe he'd be more popular at school if he was out playing football with the other boys instead of hiding in the library all the time. I just want him to fit in and be happier," Mike's dad said and Mike felt his eyes fill with tears. He couldn't help it if he didn't like sports! And he tried to fit in, really he did! Why was Dad so disappointed in him all the time? He tried really hard to please him but it just never worked._

"—kid? Mike? Are you in there?" Harvey's voice was saying as Mike snapped back to the present. Harvey was standing in front of him now, looking a bit concerned.

Mike cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I just zoned out for a second."

Harvey looked relieved. "That was longer than a second. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Look, Harvey, I'm not sure if you want me to pretend to be your son. I'm not very good at sports and I don't want to mess this up for you," Mike said quietly, determinedly not looking at Harvey. He knew that he had disappointed the older man when he had gotten involved in the whole Trevor mess and he had promised himself that he wouldn't do it again. And playing football would probably be rather disappointing once Harvey saw how inexperienced and uncoordinated Mike was.

"Alright," Harvey said slowly. "Where is this coming from? I'm sure you can't be _that _bad at it. We just have to go for an hour or two and banter like we normally do and Vince will be begging to be represented by the firm."

Mike sighed, trying to think of a way to explain without divulging the truth. He opened his mouth to say "_Oh, I'm just not a huge football fan. My fantasy team lost last year and I've never liked it since." _But instead—

"My dad was disappointed in me because I'm bad at sports," he blurted out, still avoiding Harvey's gaze. It did feel a bit better to get that off his chest and once he started he couldn't stop unburdening himself. "He always wanted me to play catch with him but I didn't want to. I was no good at it and it just made both of us frustrated. If I could go back in time right now I'd say yes every single time he asked me and I wouldn't care if he got upset when I dropped the ball. I just…miss him. And I wish we had gotten along better," Mike confessed quickly, swallowing heavily around the lump that had risen in his throat. "I never really learned how to play sports, though. I'm sorry, Harvey. I'm just going to mess this up and then you'll be disappointed in me too." There was a heavy pause while Mike waited for Harvey's response. He couldn't even remember the last time he had talked about his parents with someone but being around Harvey the past month was making him think about them more and more for some reason.

"I wish I had called my dad more," Harvey said out of the blue and Mike looked up at him surprise. He had never heard Harvey mention either of his parents before, in the past or present tense, and certainly not with that far-off look in his dark eyes.

"I understand what it's like to have regrets when someone dies, kid. My mom left my dad, my brother and I when I was ten and my dad became my entire world then. He was the greatest. He always believed in me, even when I was working in the mail room and it didn't look like I was going anywhere. He was so proud when I graduated from Harvard. But by then I was too caught up in myself and my exciting new fast-paced life. He used to call every week and I would always tell Donna to just take a message and I'd get back to him later. But a lot of the time I never did." Mike had never seen Harvey look so vulnerable and unguarded before. He felt a surge of gratitude that Harvey apparently trusted him enough to tell him this story.

"He died last year right before I was named senior associate," Harvey said, swallowing visibly at this statement. "He called my office the day before…it happened and I had Donna tell him I'd get back to him but I never did. I wish I had called him back. I wish I'd talked to him when he'd called in the first place. Hell, I wish I'd gone and visited him more than once a year. But I didn't. And now I have to live with that. But I can't let those regrets drown me, Mike. And you might regret that you didn't have a better relationship with your dad but you can't let that control your life. Take it and learn from it, kid. And someday when you have a son of your own who's obsessed with sports and you can't relate then you'll remember your dad and make sure that that doesn't happen to you and your kid. But don't let it affect your life now." Mike swiped at his eyes, blinking rapidly. Poor Harvey. That explained a lot about why he was the way he was and answered at least a few of his myriad questions about Harvey's past.

"Now come here," Harvey said, apparently having reached his daily quota for displaying emotion and offering life advice. "Grab the ball."

Mike complied and Harvey studied his hand critically. "Move your fingers here so it'll spiral tighter," he said, repositioning Mike's grip on the ball. "Make sure you step straight when you throw."

Then Harvey jogged about twenty steps away.

Mike took a deep breath and threw it like Harvey said and to his surprise and delight it flew straight and made it all the way there this time. He grinned exuberantly and even Harvey had to smile a little at this success.

They continued to play for about an hour, just tossing the ball back and forth, sometimes chatting and sometimes silent. Occasionally Harvey would offer more throwing advice or corrections but this became increasingly rarer as Mike got better and better. Every once in a while someone walking their dog would traverse through the field and smile fondly at the duo and Mike couldn't help but wonder if all of these people were assuming that he and Harvey were just a normal father and son out playing catch. If only his life were really as simple as it looked from far away to a random dog-walker.

When it got too dark to see and they were both splattered with mud and couldn't feel their hands from cold they decided to leave.

"So what do you think? Will you play on Thanksgiving?" Harvey asked as they walked to the car, and Mike appreciated that Harvey was asking him instead of forcing him.

Mike looked up at the clear starry sky and smiled. "Sure. But only if you agree to do something with me beforehand that morning."

(SUITS)

Thanksgiving morning dawned cold and clear. Mike bounded into Harvey's room at 4:30 and shook the older man awake, feeling oddly parallel to a child on Christmas morning.

"Harvey, come on, wake up! We have to be at the shelter at 5:30 and it's on the other side of the city!" Mike shouted, and he kept determinedly poking Harvey until he finally sat up, looking none too pleased. He wearily pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, attempting what appeared to be some sort of grim smile of gratitude (but may have also been a grimace of pain) when he was handed a cup of coffee by the eager fourteen-year-old who had been up for some time getting ready.

"What, did you chug the whole rest of the pot or something?" Harvey said grumpily, his voice gravelly from sleep. "Have a little respect for those of us who aren't nocturnal, would you?"

Mike tried to calm down a little bit as Harvey drove from Upper East Manhattan to the Bronx. He looked out the window, watching the neighborhoods steadily get worse and worse in the pre-dawn light until finally they pulled up in front of the shelter. They parked in back where Harvey's car hopefully wouldn't be seen (or stolen).

"Stay close to me," Harvey said as they walked up to the kitchen door. Mike rolled his eyes as he saw Harvey's gaze flickering around cautiously as though waiting for a gangster to pop out from behind a garbage can and stab Mike. Mike didn't know why anyone would try to mug him when Harvey was clearly the rich one here. But he acquiesced and soon they were safely ensconced inside the homeless shelter.

"Mikey!" A voice boomed, and Mike found himself suddenly lifted into the air and twirled around. "I haven't seen you in years. Man, you've gotten bigger. What's shaking, kid?"

He was then deposited back on the ground next to Harvey, who was looking alarmed and uncertain as to whether or not he should intervene in this very bodily salutation. "Sal!" He exclaimed jubilantly. "I've missed you!"

Sal was the director of the shelter and he had been around for as long as Mike could remember. He was a fierce gentle giant that nobody dared to mess with, which was good in his line of work. He pulled Mike aside and told him he had been sorry to hear about Mike's parents in his strangely reassuring straightforward way and soon put Mike and Harvey to work greeting people and serving food.

Mike fell into a comfortable rhythm of handing out silverware and making small talk with the people that came in. He couldn't help but return the infectious smiles that the patrons gave him— it was refreshing and renewing to help out someone who was genuinely in need of assistance. Their gratitude was overwhelming even though it was such a simple and unimportant task. He couldn't help but think of Harvey's clients that came to him begging desperately for help because they had lost 2% of their vast fortune of millions for some reason or another. Those people didn't know true desperation or poverty. And as Mike looked out over the weary faces of the people coming in to eat, he was able to put his own problems aside for awhile and put his life in perspective. Sure, he had had a really rough go of it the past few years. But at least his basic needs for food and shelter were being met. And he had people who cared about him now, like Grammy and Harvey (at least a little, right?) and Donna. He looked at the faces of the homeless teens and children that came in and thought for the first time about how truly _lucky _he was that he wasn't alone.

He looked over a few times to see how Harvey was faring and he was surprised to see that the normally aloof and emotionless lawyer was smiling easily and interacting with the people as though he had been doing this his whole life. He had even hugged a small girl who was clutching a ragged and dirty old doll. Mike had to admit, he had misjudged Harvey. He had been certain that Harvey would feel uncomfortable and out of place surrounded by these people, who were clearly from a much different walk of life than the type of people that Harvey normally associated with. But Harvey genuinely seemed to care, and there was not even a trace of condescension or magnanimity in his attitude. Mike heard Harvey talking to a boy about his age about the Yankees and realized he had seen the gentle expression that Harvey was wearing before when Harvey had talked to him about inconsequential things like school and movies and girls. Harvey could protest until he was blue in the face that he didn't care about other people but Mike knew the truth.

Mike was amazed by how quickly the time passed. Soon it was 10 o'clock and they had to leave for the Turkey Bowl game. He watched Harvey hug the little girl from before goodbye, amazed that Harvey didn't flinch when she rubbed a grimy hand on his cheek affectionately and handed him a childish drawing of a turkey that she had made.

"Bye, Sal. It was great to see you," Mike said, shaking hands with Sal on his way out.

"Bye, kid. And bye to you too, Harvey. We'll see you in two weeks!" Sal exclaimed, patting them both on the back as they headed out the kitchen door.

"What was that about? What's in two weeks?" Mike asked curiously as they walked to the car.

"I told him we'd come back to volunteer again in two weeks," Harvey said, as though it were obvious. "Although it'll probably be the dinner shift instead of breakfast. Surprisingly, I didn't really enjoy being awakened at 4:30 by you jumping on my bed. I could live the rest of my life quite happily without that happening again, actually."

Mike shook his head in wonder. "Huh. Just when I start to think I've got you all figured out. Well, I was right, anyway. I knew that even _you _would love it there. Aren't the people cool?"

"Yes, well, service work is good for my reputation," Harvey said loftily, but Mike couldn't help thinking about how he had seen Harvey slipping cash to the young single mother of that little girl so that she could have a proper Christmas gift in a few weeks.

"Thanks for bringing me, Harvey. It's nice to carry out old traditions. It's like keeping a piece of my parents alive," Mike said.

"You're welcome," Harvey said simply, and Mike watched as Harvey's gaze shifted briefly to the backseat where the drawing that the little girl had given him sat. Yep. _Harvey definitely cared._

(SUITS)

The football game went well enough. Mike wasn't the best player on the field but he wasn't actually the worst either. He had always been a quick learner and he was a fast runner so he was able to fend for himself nicely. Harvey dominated the field with his normal grace and ease which Mike supposed was only to be expected. He wondered if there was anything Harvey was truly bad at.

He determinedly avoided actually addressing Harvey as "dad" even though the two of them played their roles seriously and Harvey introduced him as "my son Mike," which had made Mike's heart do a weird little jump in his chest. It just hit a little too close to home for him— after all, he had been spending all of this time with Harvey and he suspected that the older man cared about him but he didn't really know for certain. It would be too painful to get himself emotionally invested and then have it come to an end and mean nothing when Grammy was all better and Mike had moved out. He had survived without a dad for three years; surely he didn't suddenly need one now, right?

He tried not to dwell on it too much but it was hard when they had to act so much like a father and a son. It was almost physically painful when Mike scored a touchdown and Harvey threw and arm around his shoulders and ruffled up his hair as though it were the most natural gesture in the world. He wished so badly that the pride Harvey displayed was real instead of just an act for stupid Vince Schultz.

He had a hard time connecting with the guys they played with after his morning at the shelter. All of the Turkey Bowl players were wealthy young men without a care in the world. After seeing how rough everyone at the shelter had it earlier, Mike found it silly when Vince's son complained about getting mud all over his new tennis shoes. What did he really have to complain about? His dad was a millionaire who could buy him as many shoes as he wanted. Not to mention the fact that his father really seemed to care about him, which Mike was definitely _not _jealous about.

So although the game was successful and Vince seemed eager to meet with Harvey again and discuss signing on to the firm as a client, Mike was in a somewhat somber mood driving back to the apartment from the game. He noticed that Harvey was also oddly quiet, glancing at Mike every so often with a pensive look in his eyes.

They both showered and changed into nicer clothes to go to the nursing home and eat dinner with Grammy. Mike slicked his hair back since it was a special occasion but immediately tried to put it back to normal when Harvey laughed and asked if he was trying to copy his normal coiffed, gelled hairstyle. Unfortunately the gel had already set so he just wound up looking like he had tried to style his hair and then had gone sailing on a windy day. Harvey had just rolled his eyes at this and tried his best to press down Mike's cowlick.

When they arrived, they proudly brought their contributions to the potluck up to Grammy's room (instant mashed potatoes that Harvey had successfully made in a daring display of newfound cooking skill and a pumpkin pie that they had hastily ripped the saran wrap and price tag off of and claimed to have baked). They were met with a very strange conglomerate of people— Donna was already there, wearing a very nice dress and Jimmy Choo heels and chatting with Edith like they were old best friends (she had gone to visit her parents for the day but hadn't had anything to do that night so she was there for dinner with the turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce). Mike shuddered to think what stories Grammy was telling Donna about Mike, but hoped Donna had shared some of her own stories about Harvey. Grammy's neighbor Henry Morris wandered in shortly after they arrived with some cornbread and green bean casserole that his visiting children had left for him.

"Hi, Donna," Mike said somewhat shyly in greeting. "You look nice."

Donna then swooped in and cooed delightedly over him like he was a baby who had just said his first words instead of a teenager complimenting her. She successfully managed to smooth down his hair in a matter of seconds. Mike though he heard her muttering something under her breath about single fathers being no good at all when it came to appearances, but he must have just been imagining it.

"If I knew that telling you that you look nice was all it took to get to second base I'd do it much more often, Donna," Harvey said rakishly and Donna let Mike out of the fierce, motherly embrace she had him in to punch Harvey on the shoulder (to be fair, Mike's head _had _been dangerously close to Donna's chest although he had been trying really hard not to think about that).

"Harvey, you pervert! Honestly, I don't know why Mike looks up to you," Donna huffed. "Look, he tried to do his hair just like yours! I won't be surprised if he's wearing three-piece suits on a daily basis by Christmas. And Harvey, that tie looks a little skinnier than normal. Are you trying to be more like Mike? You two are adorable!" Donna said happily, indicating the skinny navy tie that Mike wore (one of his dad's old ones). Both Mike and Harvey blushed a bit and looked away from each other, disturbed by the allegation that they were trying to copy one another. Harvey, having been put in his place by Donna, quickly adjusted his tie, trying to make it look thicker.

They all sat down to eat, cheering heartily when Edith pulled out a bottle of wine that she had managed to con out of one of the nurses. As Mike stared at the happy faces of his newfound makeshift family of sorts, he realized suddenly that he hadn't given his parents much more than a passing thought that day. The familiar ache was still there when he pressed on it, but he realized that the spaces around the hole in his heart were slowing being filled by Grammy's soft laugh, the rumble of Harvey's voice talking about a recent case, and Donna's warm embrace, so that the missing piece wasn't as noticeable. And as he sat and listened to Henry Morris tell awkwardly morbid stories about his time fighting in the Korean War while determinedly avoiding making eye contact with Harvey (he knew that he would lose it and burst out in a fit of inappropriate laughter if they looked at each other) he decided that this had been one of the best Thanksgivings ever.

(SUITS)

It had been a good Thanksgiving, Harvey realized later that night as he sat on the couch next to Mike watching _It's a Wonderful Life _to celebrate the beginning of the holiday season. Very different from his normal Thanksgiving, which generally consisted of working on tedious, mind-numbing paperwork to take his mind off of the fact that he had nowhere to be and nobody to visit. Then he would normally get drunk in the evening and call his father, who lived several hours upstate (Harvey couldn't be bothered to take the extra day off of work required to travel up there to visit). And then he would get even drunker and call his brother Paul who lived in Chicago near his and Harvey's childhood home. He would talk about work and Donna with his dad and his exploits with women with Paul.

This year, for the first time in 30 years of being alive, he couldn't pick up the phone and call his dad whenever he wanted and it was harder than he had anticipated. He realized now that he had completely taken his dad for granted in the past. But he tried to follow his own advice to Mike and not torture himself over it. Keeping busy helped— between feeding the homeless, playing football, and chatting with Edith and Donna he had barely had time to feel empty or sad. Mike's constant presence helped too. He knew that the holidays must be tough on the kid too and was selfishly a little glad that he didn't have to go through this alone. Even though he would never outwardly express or display his grief (that just wasn't how he dealt with things), Mike would know what he was going through because Mike was perceptive like that. And Mike wouldn't pretend like he understood and simper over Harvey compassionately— he really _did_ understand Harvey's grief and Harvey was able to draw strength from that. The kid was a rock, he'd give him that.

He'd been surprised how much fun he'd had at the homeless shelter earlier. It had certainly taken his mind off of his own troubles— at least he'd had a father and a brother who loved him. Looking at all the broken people in line for food he realized that that was a lot more than many of them had ever had. It had been a long time since he had interacted with someone (beside Mike) who wasn't a multi-millionaire client. Too long. It was nice to get out of the little bubble that was Pearson Hardman, floating pristinely above New York City, and out into the real world for awhile where people had real problems that he could easily dig into and do something about without jumping through legal hoops and courting fussy clients.

The football game had gone pretty well, too. Vince was definitely interested in signing on to the firm as a client, which would please Jessica inordinately. Mike had played much better than Harvey had hoped for and he couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself for teaching the kid and convincing him to give the sport another try. It was weird how natural it had been to pretend to be Mike's father. A little too weird. It was discomfiting how easily the words "my son Mike" had rolled off his tongue. Disconcerting how normal it had seemed to congratulate the kid proudly for scoring a touchdown. He wasn't sure how the kid felt about it though— he had seemed very reluctant to address Harvey as "dad." But he knew that Mike was starving for a father and/or older brother figure— that was clear to anyone who had spent more than a minute with the teen. Still, Harvey supposed that that didn't automatically make him the candidate for Mike's affection. He supposed that he should be grateful— after all, things would get messy at the end of the three months if either one of them got too attached.

Still, if Harvey was being honest he had to admit, at least to himself, that he kind of liked having the kid around. It was nice and comfortable, especially during quiet, peaceful nights like this. He realized that Mike hadn't said anything for awhile and glanced over; unsurprised to see that he was sound asleep, mouth open and drooling slightly. The kid had been up since four in the morning, it figured that he would crash sooner or later.

Harvey pulled out his cell phone and found his brother's name buried in his contacts and pressed 'call.' He hadn't talked to Paul for months.

The phone rang a few times but went to voice mail, which was unsurprising given that it was only 10 (9 o'clock, Paul's time in Chicago) at night. Harvey's normal Thanksgiving calls usually happened at about 2 or 3 in the morning when he stumbled in from the bar, so Paul probably wasn't expecting him to call yet. He was probably with his girlfriend's family right now.

"Hey, Pauly," Harvey said when it beeped, the childish nickname rolling easily off his tongue. "I know I'm calling a bit earlier than usual this year, and I'm not drunk off my ass for once, but things are…a little different lately. Haven't been many women in my life recently, that's for certain. Just this kid— and when I say kid I don't mean that I've gotten into soliciting underage prostitutes, I mean there's literally a kid living with me. It's a long story— anyway; I hope things are going well for you. Listen, I've been thinking— maybe you should come out here and visit for Christmas? I've been thinking about Dad a lot lately and I think it would have made him happy. How's the girlfriend? Well, there's not much going on with me. Uh, just give me a call back sometime. Happy Thanksgiving."

And with that Harvey hung up, shaking his head. You know your relationship is bad with your brother if you find it hard to talk to him sober or even leave him a message where you don't have to interact with him sober. But maybe if Paul came out for Christmas they could change that?

Harvey stood and turned the TV off. He was tired too and had seen _It's a Wonderful Life _about a billion times before. Unable to keep the fond smile off his face, he crossed back over to the couch and began working at pulling Mike's well-worn chucks off. He then wedged a pillow under the kid's head (he didn't want to listen to Mike complain about having a stiff neck in the morning) and draped a blanket over the teen, ignoring the fact that he was essentially tucking Mike in. He smoothed a lock of still-gelled hair away from the kid's face. Mike leaned into the gesture and smiled slightly in his sleep and Harvey let out a slightly shaky breath as he recalled his earlier thoughts about things getting messy at the end of the three months. _Damn. He was in over his head with this kid._


	10. Chapter 10

**Welcome to chapter 10, my dear friends, where the author struggles to pretend that she actually knows something about legal processes like depositions and probably completely fails— I really don't know what I'm talking about in the first half of this chapter, so I just want to apologize in advance if it doesn't make sense or if there is anything that blatantly contradicts the norm of the American justice system haha. Thanks for all your unfailing support regardless of my ineptitude! Oh, and a reciprocal shout-out to the lovely Selvet, who gave me a shout-out of her (I'm just assuming you're a girl, sorry?) own in her wonderful fic _I Don't Want to Wear a Tie. _Check it out! It's got an adorable deaged!Mike and the promise of caring!dad!Harvey on the horizon...what more could you want? **

**CHAPTER 10: THE GREAT ESCAPE**

_**Hey, child, things are looking down**_

_**That's okay; you don't need to win anyways**_

_**Don't be afraid, just eat up all the gray**_

_**And it will fade all away**_

_**Don't let yourself fall down**_

_**From "The Great Escape" by Patrick Watson**_

The Wednesday after Thanksgiving was set as the date for Grammy's deposition and Mike had turned on his biggest, bluest, most innocent puppy eyes and begged Harvey to let him take the day off of school so he could come along. Harvey initially resisted, saying that Mike didn't need to miss school (which was obviously untrue because he was smarter than all of the teachers combined) and ultimately that it was unprofessional for him to bring a kid along to a deposition. He then relented shortly after because he found it hard to eat his dinner with Mike staring at him like he had just thrown the kid's beloved bicycle off the roof of Pearson Hardman and smashed it to pieces. Score—Mike's puppy eyes: 1. Harvey: 0.

Mike was wide awake early the day of the deposition and was dressed and ready to go by the time that Harvey, unshaven and still in his pajamas, meandered out of his bedroom to turn on a pot of coffee. Harvey frowned, knowing that the only things that could rouse Mike (who followed typical teenage sleeping patterns the way that Harvey followed the Yankees stats) early from his slumber was nerves or excitement.

Harvey insisted that there was nothing to be nervous about— that the depositions for George Stanopolous and Maria Santiago (who had been deposed on Monday) had gone well and that he would be there the whole time to make sure that the lawyers didn't verbally attack Grammy. Mike nodded but wasn't much reassured. He was naturally overprotective of Grammy and he had seen a lot of legal crime shows— they were always poking around the witnesses' pasts and pressing where it hurt. And Grammy was already hurt— Mike wasn't sure how much pressing she could withstand.

He sat at the kitchen table, still nodding absently in false agreement with Harvey's reassurances and nervously tearing a piece of toast into shreds.

"Would you stop that? If you didn't want that toast you didn't have to destroy it. I would've eaten it," Harvey sighed.

"What? Oh—huh. Sorry. I guess I wasn't paying attention," Mike said.

Harvey then pulled the plate of crumbs away from Mike and plopped a huge stack of paperwork in front of him.

"Work on this while I get ready. But if you shred any of these papers in a fit of hysteria, so help me God I will not be pleased," Harvey said, heading back to his room to shower and get dressed.

Mike nodded, clearly grateful for the distraction. "I'll make another piece of toast if the urge overtakes me," he called, and he got to work on the files.

When Harvey emerged from his room 45 minutes later, Mike was passed out asleep on the kitchen table, clutching a piece of paper in his hand where he had managed to highlight a loophole that would allow Harvey to win the case he was working on. He shook his head in amazement as he stared at the simple note Mike had scrawled in the margin indicating the precedent that made the loophole valid. It would have taken him and a team of associates and paralegals hours to find that. And the kid had done it in less than 45 minutes and still found time to nap. Unbelievable.

He shook Mike awake and the two of them drove to the nursing home, Mike subconsciously bouncing his leg anxiously the whole time.

"Stop that, you're shaking the car," Harvey said, staring pointedly at the offensive limb. "Trust me, Mike. It'll be fine. The head lawyer that McKinnon sent to the last two depositions was a joke. He was just a nice old man; wouldn't hurt a fly. He was actually showing George Stanopolous pictures of his grandchildren throughout the deposition. He'll probably flirt with your Grammy instead of grilling her about her past and McKinnon work experience," Harvey said thoughtfully and Mike wrinkled his nose at this disturbing thought but ceased his nervous leg bobbing, slightly mollified.

When they got there, Harvey headed to the activity room that they were using for the deposition to set up while Mike went upstairs to get Grammy. She seemed perfectly at ease with the proceedings which made Mike feel a little better. He wheeled her down to the activity room and was relieved that the other lawyers from McKinnon weren't there yet. He wondered if he should have asked Grammy to not wear makeup today. He didn't want some old guy hitting on his grandmother, after all.

The three of them sat and waited for the opposing counsel to arrive. Suddenly, the door opened and a man walked in who was neither old nor nice like Harvey had described earlier. He was followed by another lawyer and a legal secretary. Both were older than him, but he was clearly the one in charge here.

"Hey, Harv," the newcomer said in an oily tone. Mike instantly disliked him. He was young; about Harvey's age, but that was where the similarities stopped. While Harvey was cocky and liked to win, he also had a strict moral code and wanted to win fairly. Mike instantly knew that this guy wasn't afraid to play dirty to get what he wanted.

"I'm sorry," Harvey said with an air of obviously false politeness. "Do I know you?" Mike could tell that Harvey was thrown off a little by this sudden change in legal counsel by McKinnon, though he covered it almost perfectly in typical, suave Harvey form. This must be what McKinnon was hiding up their sleeves— they had sent the old guy to do the first two depositions and lull Harvey into a false sense of security and now they were sending out this new guy to rock the boat and go for the kill with the main witness, Grammy. Mike felt his hands start to sweat and it required all of his willpower to keep from resuming his leg-bouncing.

"Travis Tanner," the man said, holding his hand out to shake. Harvey grasped it firmly and briefly and they both glared at each other. Tanner's sleeve rolled up a little when he extended his arm, and Mike could see a sweat-band tan on his wrist. Ugh. A tennis player, like Louis.

Mike had a feeling that this situation was going to end looking ugly— two hypercompetitive alpha males who loved to win facing each other in a high profile legal case? He tried to keep the look of panic off of his face. He believed that Harvey could win, of course, but he didn't know if Harvey could win with Grammy escaping completely unscathed—because by the looks of it Tanner was out for blood. But Mike didn't understand why this conflict seemed so personal on Tanner's side— Mike was pretty good at reading Harvey by now and he could tell that the older man was thrown by the fact that he didn't know Tanner but Tanner knew him. Why was Tanner coming after him so strongly?

"Harvey, might I have a word with you privately for a moment before we get started?" Tanner asked in his slick voice. He practically oozed false charm.

Harvey nodded grimly and followed Tanner out into the hall. Grammy was starting to look a little confused and concerned and Mike tried to use his own false charm and flash her a smile. But he failed, because he was an honest guy who played by the rules for the most part. Unlike Travis Tanner, that tennis-playing douchebag.

(SUITS)

Harvey followed Tanner out into the hallway, his mind scrambling to fill in the blanks of this current equation. What had happened to good old Carl Levin, the previous head of the McKinnon legal team? Who the hell was this guy and why did he appear to have such a vendetta against Harvey? He carefully disguised his confusion as indifference, knowing that it would only give Tanner a perverse pleasure to see that he had managed to toss Harvey off his game.

"I was glad to hear that you were working this case, Harvey," Tanner said.

"Oh, really? And why's that?" Harvey asked, playing along.

"I've been hearing rumors about you over in Massachusetts. I was just made the youngest junior partner ever at Boston's biggest legal firm. But that doesn't satisfy me. Because everyone in Boston is always busy talking about Harvey Specter, New York City's great up-and-coming closer. So when McKinnon came to me begging for help to beat Pearson Hardman, I agreed, naturally. I'm going to kick your ass and prove to the legal community that Boston's rising legal superstar beats New York's any day."

Harvey let out a cynical laugh at this. This guy was such a dick. He actually believed he was going to beat Harvey Specter? That was like comparing the Yankees to the Red Sox— the Yankees won every time, obviously.

"What's so funny, Harv?" Tanner jeered.

"Nothing. I was just thinking of how much fun it's going to be to destroy you in this trial. Bring it on, Tanner. I can take it," Harvey said confidently.

They then returned to the activity room, where Mike seemed to be bravely attempting to hold some kind of staring contest with the other lawyer and the secretary. Both of them were looking at him in bemusement, obviously not intimidated by the 14-year-old's scowl, which really just made him look slightly cross-eyed. Harvey had to give the kid props for trying, though.

"Alright, shall we get this started?" Tanner said, sliding into his chair. The secretary turned on the video camera and Tanner swore Edith in. Then the questions began. The first few were basic: what was Edith's name, how old was she, how long had she worked at McKinnon, etc.

"So just to clarify for the record, you want to sue McKinnon for compensation for your injuries that you claim were sustained as a result of their negligence at providing you with a safe work environment?" Tanner asked.

"Yes," Edith answered.

"What were these injuries exactly?" Tanner continued, and Harvey didn't like the predatory look in his eyes.

"A broken hip and femur as well as a mild concussion," Edith responded, glancing wryly down at her leg, which was in a heavy cast up to her hip.

"Isn't it true according to your McKinnon health records that you have osteoporosis, Mrs. Ross? A disease which causes your bones to be brittle and break very easily?"

"Well, yes, I was just diagnosed a few months ago and it's very mild. And I've never broken any bones before this, actually. Not even as a child," Edith said.

"Do you take medication or calcium supplements for your osteoporosis?" Tanner asked.

"No," Edith answered. "Like I've said, it's very mild at this point. And the medication is too expensive. My McKinnon insurance didn't cover it."

"So would you say then that this was just an accident waiting to happen? After all, you admit that you weren't taking medicine to help deal with this problem. It was only a matter of time before you fell and broke something, and it could have happened anywhere— at work, at home, at the grocery store. Maybe it was just a coincidence that it happened at the McKinnon factory," Tanner said, and Edith looked at Harvey uncertainly. He nodded reassuringly. Mike looked furious on her behalf.

"Like I've said twice already, Mr. Tanner— my osteoporosis is quite mild and it doesn't interfere with my daily activities or my ability to work. It wasn't an accident waiting to happen— after all, I wouldn't have broken my hip and femur if I hadn't fallen at McKinnon. And I fell at McKinnon because of the poor working conditions there.

"And if it _were_ an accident waiting to happen I probably would have broken my vertebrae, which are the bones most commonly affected by osteoporosis. The condition is very common in women over the age of fifty, and many of those women continue to work without any problems," Edith said calmly but firmly, her chin up.

"Yes, but you're quite a bit older than fifty, Mrs. Ross," Tanner said. "Almost 70, you say? How much money do you make?"

Edith blushed slightly then and quietly recited the meager salary that she had received each year from McKinnon. Harvey hated Tanner for how embarrassed she looked to admit her poor financial standing. Edith, who worked so tirelessly to provide for Mike, did _not _deserve to feel ashamed for any reason.

"That's not very much, is it?" Tanner continued tactlessly. Harvey wanted to punch him in the face. "New York City is an expensive place to live, isn't it, Mrs. Ross? Not to mention your grandson, who's a growing boy and needs lots of food and new clothes. It's probably not cheap providing for him, is it?" Harvey saw the look of guilt that crossed Mike's face at this and felt his fist clench with its desire to meet Tanner's smirking face.

"No, it's not cheap, but Michael is worth it a hundred times over," Edith said with conviction. She turned to smile warmly at Mike, obviously anticipating his self-deprecating guilt. He returned her smile rather feebly.

"So you admit that you're struggling to make ends meet, Mrs. Ross? And that you have osteoporosis? And that your leg will probably never completely heal, regardless of all the physical therapy and surgeries in the world?" Tanner asked.

"Well, the doctors are optimistic about my prognosis. They say I should regain almost all of my former functioning ability after a few months of intense therapy," Edith said.

"But it'll never get completely better, will it, Mrs. Ross? Answer the question at hand instead of diverting, please," Tanner said with false politeness.

"Well…no," Edith said slowly. "But that's why I'm suing for compensation— because this injury has caused me irreparable damage," she added quickly. Harvey frowned, feeling ill at ease. Tanner was going somewhere with all of this— but where?

"So with all of these things going on in your life— lack of money, medical problems, advanced age— are you sure that you're the best person to have custody of your grandson, Mrs. Ross? Maybe what we should be having right now is a custody trial for Mike— you don't mind if I call you 'Mike' do you?" Tanner said, turning to Mike with a vicious gleam in his eyes. "A custody hearing, instead of a frivolous suit against McKinnon Pharmaceutical," Tanner finished, smirking. _And there it was._

"Leave the kid out of this." Harvey interjected quickly before he could stop himself. He couldn't just sit there and say nothing once he saw the look of sudden terror that crossed Mike's face at the very thought of being tossed back into the foster care system. Tanner looked over at Harvey calculatingly, one eyebrow raised in pleased surprise, clearly not expecting the intensity of the reaction.

"Very interesting response, Harvey," Tanner said. "Very interesting indeed."

Edith looked over at him uneasily. "Of course I'm capable of taking care of Mike. He'll be an adult in a few years anyway and he's a very smart boy. Lots of help around the house. He doesn't get into any trouble"— Harvey was glad that they hadn't told her about the Trevor debacle— "and he's at the top of all of his classes. Despite all the upheaval in his life the past few years, he's doing well. If living with me was such an unstable and unhealthy environment, don't you think he'd be acting out and failing in school? But he's not. What's more; I _want _to take care of him. I want him a lot more than most foster parents would want him," Edith said, before adding sharply: "plus there's the fact that Mike's custody has absolutely no bearing on this case right here."

She made a very convincing argument, which was good. But they were in trouble now, and it was all Harvey's fault. Because he had just walked right into Travis Tanner's trap when he had spoken up: he had inadvertently revealed exactly what their weakness was— both Edith's and (though he was loath to admit it) his— Mike and the issue of Mike's custody. And Tanner wouldn't be afraid to use that against them somehow as leverage to win this case. And he wouldn't play clean and fair to do it.

(SUITS)

"Well, that went well," Mike muttered sarcastically once they said goodbye to Grammy after dropping her back off in her room and were standing in the hallway.

"It went fine," Harvey said, trying to sound reassuring. Mike just raised an eyebrow in response to this. Harvey couldn't help but think that he himself made that face quite often and wondered if that was where the kid had gotten it from. "Seriously, Mike, that douchebag isn't going to beat me. We'll be fine."

"Who even is he? Why is he so determined to crush you?" Mike asked as they began walking back down to the car.

"Travis Tanner is just a small-minded idiot with a rod up his ass because he can't deal with the fact that he's not the best lawyer out there. And he can't accept that he's not even _close _to being the best lawyer, so he's coming after me to try and validate his insecurities," Harvey said confidently.

Mike nodded lamely at this, seeming unconvinced. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Harvey," he said quietly. "What Tanner was saying before…what if he does decide to try and get child services to take me away from Grammy? He's right, you know— she_ is_ getting older and her leg will never completely be the same again. If that case went to family court, well… Grammy and I might not win it."

"Perish the thought, Mike. You don't need to think about the possibility of that happening, because it won't," Harvey said firmly as they began walking out to the car. Mike just continued to bite his lip.

"I'm serious, Mike. Even if it did get to that point, I'd be able to kick Tanner's ass in family court in about two minutes," Harvey said.

"But if child services got the idea into their heads that Grammy wasn't a fit guardian, there wouldn't be much that you could do at that point. They'd take me away from her and put me somewhere else regardless of any trial," Mike said.

"If it ever got to that point— which it _won't— _I'd take you in myself before letting you be sent to live with some random family again," Harvey said, looking away from Mike uncomfortably, his voice trailing off slightly at the end of this rather bold statement.

"You'd really do that? You'd take me in on a permanent basis?" Mike said, his tone carefully neutral. But when Harvey risked a glance over at the kid, he saw that his wide blue eyes were practically blazing with hope and gratitude and he looked away quickly, unable to bear the unfamiliar emotions rising within his chest.

"Well, yes, if I had to." Harvey said stiffly, sliding into the car. "I suppose I'd owe your grandmother that much for getting you two mixed up in all of this and inadvertently causing child services to get involved in the first place. But it won't happen."

"Oh," Mike said, and Harvey looked away again, not wanting to see the disappointment in Mike's expressive eyes. This was why he didn't indulge in emotions—did the kid really expect him to come out and say that he would want Mike to keep living with him? Harvey Specter did **not **say or feel things that implied caring.

"Come on, I'm starving. Let's go get lunch. And then you can look over the Philips financials this afternoon. Unless you'd rather go back to school?" Harvey said, quickly changing the subject.

"No, no. I'll do the financials," Mike said, his voice still quiet.

"We can get pizza with the cheese inside the crust for lunch if you want," Harvey offered, hardly believing that he was actually stooping to bribery to cheer the kid up.

Mike gave a small smile at this and they resumed normal banter. But the conversation still lingered at the back of Harvey's mind the rest of the day. _What **would** he do if he was confronted with the possibility of keeping Mike for good? _He honestly didn't know.

(SUITS)

Mike was awakened two mornings later by Harvey shaking him roughly on the shoulder.

"G'way," he groaned hoarsely, defiantly burrowing under his blankets and pulling his pillow over his head.

Harvey just pulled the pillow and blankets away. Mike shivered and gasped in the cool morning air, curling into a ball to preserve his body heat.

"5 more minutes?" he tried desperately.

"Would you stop with the melodramatics? You don't have to get up yet; it's five in the morning. There's an emergency situation with a client and I have to leave now to see them and fix it before we go to trial later this morning. I just woke you up to tell you that I'm leaving money on the counter for you to get a cab to school later; I can't drive you today," Harvey said.

Mike nodded sleepily. As soon as he had heard the words 'you don't have to get up yet' he had begun drifting off again.

"'Kay," He yawned, letting Harvey know that he had understood so Harvey would leave him alone. He shivered and rolled over onto his side, still curled up to keep warm.

He dimly heard Harvey sigh. "You're not going to put your blankets back on by yourself, are you?" Harvey said in exasperation, pulling the blankets that he had confiscated back up and draping them over Mike quickly, so as not to appear to be tucking him in. Mike didn't seem to care; he just snuggled up contentedly, clearly dead to the world once again.

"Are you fourteen or four, kid?" Harvey asked sleeping Mike, who just snored slightly in response. Harvey nodded. That sounded about right.

(SUITS)

When Mike awoke for the second time that morning he blinked slowly and glanced at his alarm clock before realizing that he was running _very _late. Instantly wide awake, he tried to do one of those desperate leaps completely out of bed that can only be achieved when one gets a morning adrenaline rush upon realizing they are running far behind schedule, but unfortunately he was still tangled up in his blankets and sheet so he fell and wound up dangling upside down out of his bed. He hastily righted himself and stood up for real before realizing all of a sudden that his head was swimming and aching and he felt dizzy. He tried to take a deep breath but realized his chest was tight. He coughed and the sound was wet and phlegm-y. He groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. He had felt unusually tired yesterday and his head and throat had ached a little, but he had figured it was just remnant stress from the deposition and that a good night's sleep would cure it. It seemed like that wasn't going to be the case, though. He rarely got sick but when he did it always turned out to be pretty nasty and _of course_ it had to happen while he was staying with Harvey.

Although it didn't seem too bad yet— maybe it was just a cold? Cursing his traitorous immune system, he forced himself to get back out of bed and went to take a quick shower. It was hard to move quickly this morning— all he wanted to do was shuffle back to bed and snuggle under his comforter all day. But he had a math test this morning (although he could probably afford to miss it; he did have above 100% in the class right now) and also the school would call Harvey if he didn't show up and he didn't want to tell Harvey that he had overslept and that he was didn't feel well unless he absolutely had to. Harvey was busy dealing with his emergency situation; he didn't have time to come and deal with Mike being a baby over a little cold.

Mike was determined to put all that had happened the other day at the deposition out of his mind and not dwell on it further. Worrying wasn't going to help anything— he trusted Harvey, and he trusted that Harvey could win this case. But in order to do that, Mike needed to let him do his job, and his job did not include taking care of a sick teenager.

So instead of calling and whining to Harvey (though the idea was oddly tempting), he mustered up all of his energy and tried to get ready as quickly as possible, but his movements were still much more sluggish than usual. He pulled on his warmest hoodie (which was actually an old Harvard sweatshirt that he had stolen from Harvey, but he figured it was okay because Harvey didn't really wear casual sweatshirts, ever.) and his oldest, comfiest jeans— he had that terrible feverish sensation of not being able to get warm no matter what. His stomach rebelled at the mere thought of eating breakfast, so instead he grabbed the money off the counter and called the number of the cab company Harvey had left him.

"Hello, this is Shauna. Do you need a taxi today?"

"Yes," Mike said hoarsely. Damn, his throat was really starting to hurt. He gave Shauna his address.

"What time would you like that for?" Shauna asked and Mike glanced at the clock. _Shit. _It was already 7:30 and class started at 7:45.

"As soon as possible," Mike said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

He could hear Shauna typing away on her computer for a moment before she sighed. "I'm sorry, sir, but it seems that there's been a very serious accident on one of the main roads and traffic is backed up all over Manhattan. It'll be at least twenty minutes before someone can come and get you, and you'll probably be sitting in traffic for awhile."

Mike sighed. This was just not his day. "Alright, that's okay. Never mind about the cab." He hung up the phone and put Harvey's money back on the counter. He would just have to ride his bike— it wouldn't be much fun in this weather but at least he'd probably make it to school by 8.

He pulled on his new jacket, grateful for the warmth it provided. Next he pulled on the red knit hat and a pair of gloves that Harvey had given him. He stepped outside of the apartment complex and his lungs instantly started burning and aching from the sharp, cold air. This was going to suck, plain and simple.

He put his earbuds in and turned on his playlist of pump-up music as a distraction from the biting cold and set off, gritting his teeth against the wind. It had yet to snow, which was fortunate, but he was pretty sure Mother Nature hated him because it definitely hadn't been this cold yesterday.

Gritting his teeth, he pedaled as fast as he could, weaving in and out of traffic. His mind was a bit hazy this morning and everything seemed kind of blurred and distant. He was amazed that he made it to school without getting hit by a car. He pulled off his gloves and struggled to lock his bike with freezing fingers.

Walking into school was the best feeling in the world. They must have had the heat cranked up because it felt like a furnace to Mike, who was shivering uncontrollably. He went to his locker and carelessly shoved everything inside before dashing off to class, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of vertigo that moving quickly gave him.

The rest of the day was rough— his calculus teacher yelled at him for ten minutes in front of the whole class for being late on a test day, everyone kept shooting him dirty looks because he couldn't stop coughing and sniffling in the middle of lectures, and the gym teacher had made him run two miles, his lungs burning and his throat raw and aching the whole time. Mike knew that riding his bike to school in the freezing cold had been a poor choice— his cough had definitely worsened and it now sounded ominously deep and chesty. He was wheezing slightly and was pretty sure he had a decent fever going. Not to mention the aches and chills and the nausea on the side of all of this. Yes, overall Mike was feeling pretty miserable by the end of the school day.

He found that he didn't even remember most of the day very clearly— it was all a feverish muddle of discomfort. But he was determined to soldier on until he got home that night and could collapse in his bed for a good ten hours and hopefully sleep the worst of it off. So he didn't complain— although several people kept shooting him concerned looks in the hallway and stairwell during passing period because he appeared about a second away from passing out on top of them and starting some kind of domino chain that involved everyone falling down the stairs. By the time the school day was over he was really just wanted to lie down on the cool linoleum floor by his locker and sleep for about 3 years, but that would require forcing his aching body to move into a lying down position and that sounded like a lot of work.

He was standing at his locker and staring at absolutely nothing for awhile, trying to figure out why his painfully tight chest felt like he had just run a marathon in the Sahara desert and then dumped a bottle of glue inside his lungs, when Rachel approached and stood next to him silently for a moment, following his blank gaze to where he was staring at a wall that the janitors had recently painted a garish shade of yellow.

"Are you really standing here and watching paint dry right now?" Rachel asked finally when it seemed that Mike wasn't going to acknowledge her.

He startled out of his trance and turned to face her. She gasped, taking in his flushed appearance and fever-bright eyes.

"You look terrible!" She exclaimed loudly. Mike winced as his aching head throbbed in protest. "I mean it, Mike. You look really sick," Rachel said when he didn't answer, chewing on her lower lip in concern. She reached out tentatively with her hand to check his temperature and instantly withdrew it upon touching his forehead.

"Jeez, Mike, you're burning up!" She yelped. "How long have you been feeling sick? I guess you can't come to debate today, can you? Is Harvey picking you up? You _are_ going home, right?"

This was a lot of questions. Too many questions for Mike's incoherent brain to comprehend right now. He thought very hard for a moment.

"Yes," he said, because that seemed like a safe answer to whatever Rachel had asked.

She smiled in relief and he knew he'd said the right thing.

"Good, well, I hope you feel better. Go home and sleep and eat chicken noodle soup for a few days, okay? I'd wait with you for your ride, but I've really got to get going. I need to talk to my group about the rebuttal for the gun control debate today before the meeting starts. Will you be okay?" She asked. He nodded dumbly and she hugged him quickly and then hurried off to the debate meeting.

"You're pretty," he called dazedly after her, before realizing that that wasn't an appropriate goodbye. But it was too late by then, and fortunately she didn't seem to have heard. He tried to decide what to do next.

What had Rachel said to him? Something about debate and then all of those questions…was he going somewhere with Harvey?

_Harvey. _That's who he needed right now. He decided that it would be a good idea to ride his bike to Pearson Hardman and find Harvey. Harvey knew everything about everything; maybe he could tell Mike why his vision kept spinning and why he was drowning in phlegm and why he felt so cold and hot at the same time. He would probably have the answer to these questions. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

He pulled on his jacket but didn't bother zipping it up— he found that he was kind of sweaty right now anyway. He grabbed his stuff and headed out to the bike rack where he retrieved his bike and helmet.

He hopped on and took off. He realized that it was kind of strange that he felt so hot when he could see his breath and everyone around him had heavy jackets on. Maybe his cold had turned into something a little worse? The list of symptoms for walking pneumonia (stored in his impressive memory) flashed briefly through his mind but he immediately pushed it out, firmly in denial of his condition.

He stumbled up the steps to Pearson Hardman, making his way up to Harvey's office. Donna wasn't at her desk, but he could see Harvey sitting in his office and breathed a sigh of relief.

He opened the door to Harvey's office.

"Mike," Harvey said in acknowledgement of his presence, not looking up from the files he was reading. Mike wondered vaguely how Harvey always knew who was coming without looking. "Don't you have debate today? Something about a mock trial? You've only mentioned it like two hundred times during the past week."

"Hi, Harvey. I just came here because…uh. Well, um…" Mike tried to remember what he had wanted to say, but it was hard when all these black dots were suddenly dancing across his vision and he felt so awful.

"Your articulateness today is inspiring," Harvey said wryly, still absorbed in his work.

"Er—yes. Hey, why's it so hot in here?" Mike asked croakily, and his voice sounded kind of weird, even to his own ears. He had another coughing attack and began hacking deeply and desperately, trying to get the mucus out of his abused lungs so he could breathe.

Harvey looked up at this now and Mike thought that his face paled suddenly, but it was hard to tell because the black dots were blooming and growing to encompass his entire view of the office.

"Shit, kid," Harvey breathed upon seeing Mike, who was swaying alarmingly and had a sheen of sweat on his pale face. He stood and quickly began crossing the room, sensing that Mike wouldn't be standing up much longer.

"Harvey… I don't feel so good. I'm going to sit down for a minute. Okay?" Mike asked weakly. And then suddenly he was falling, but it didn't matter because Harvey was there to grab him before he hit the ground. The last thing he felt before he surrendered to unconsciousness was Harvey's strong arms holding him up. _Harvey's here, _Mike thought dimly as he faintly heard Harvey calling for Donna. _So I'll be okay now._

**Yay for sick!Mike (I'm evil). Yeah, I know it's probably medically inaccurate about the osteoporosis and Mike being sick— I've never had pneumonia, walking or otherwise, so I don't really know if it can set in this quickly but I feel like riding your bike around in December probably wouldn't help much...hey, do you guys think that canon Harvey makes Mike ride his bike to work during the winter? Because that would suck. **

**It might be closer to two weeks before I update again— I'm heading back to college next week (thank god) so I think things are about to get crazy the next few days. Already counting down til January when the second half of the 2nd season starts and anticipating withdrawal pains this Thursday!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone! I know it's been awhile since I've updated but my life has recently gotten crazy due to my return to college. I'm so glad to be back at school— I wrote a large portion of this chapter on a legal pad sitting by a river after a nice long hike down into a canyon… oh how I missed that place during the summer! But anyway, it left me feeling motivated to write a particularly long chapter with a particularly caring!Harvey, so I hope you all enjoy! I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but here it is.**

_In the cathedrals of New York and Rome_**  
**

_There is a feeling that you should just go home  
_

_And spend a lifetime  
_

_Finding out just where that is  
_

_-From "Cathedrals" by Jump Little Children  
_

"Donna!" Harvey practically bellowed out his office door and into the hallway, not caring that people were starting to stare at him. He was sure that it made for a good sight— the normally impenetrable Harvey Specter standing in his office, holding a very sick, half-conscious teenager up by the armpits. Normally he would be more concerned about his image in front of his coworkers and subordinates, but he had other problems on his hands right now— literally. Of course Donna had chosen this exact moment to go to bathroom.

He dragged Mike over to the couch (the kid was too damn skinny, it shouldn't have been this easy to pull the dead weight of someone only a few inches shorter than him) and sat him down gently before stepping back to assess the situation anxiously. Mike was just sitting there, slowly blinking. He clearly wasn't recognizing his surroundings and it was freaking Harvey out. He didn't know anything about illnesses— Harvey Specter did _not _get sick— but what if whatever ailed Mike was something life threatening? How could you tell these things without going to medical school or being a mother?

He tried his best to remember any useful medical trivia from his high school health class, but all that he could come up with was an alarming mental image of the live birth video they had been forced to watch all those years ago. He tried to tamper down the unfamiliar emotion that was steadily rising within his chest, but it wasn't going away and it felt a lot like panic. And Harvey Specter _definitely _didn't panic over anything.

"Donna!" He hollered again to combat the helpless feeling sweeping through him. Donna would know exactly what to do, but it wouldn't do Mike any good if she didn't get here soon.

It looked like he was going to have to at least start dealing with this on his own until Donna finished peeing or writing a novel or rollerblading to Siberia and back or doing whatever the hell it was that was delaying her so much. Right— first things first. Harvey tentatively reached out and placed his hand on Mike's forehead, cringing at the heat he felt there— definitely a fever.

Mike's eyelids fluttered briefly open at the contact, revealing hazy, fever-bright blue eyes, which Harvey added to his mental list of symptoms. Mike tried to lean into the coolness of Harvey's hand before his head lolled to the side and he gave up and drifting back to sleep or unconsciousness— Harvey couldn't tell which. _Lethargy. _

He then added Mike's unhealthy pallor, flushed cheeks, and perspiring brow to the list, satisfied with his budding talent as a diagnostician. But perhaps the most troubling symptom was Mike's labored breathing— he was wheezing and taking breaths that were far too shallow to be natural, not to mention the slight rattling noise his chest was making upon inhaling and exhaling.

Mike's eyes opened again as he descended into the throes of another coughing fit. It made Harvey's chest hurt in sympathy listening to the kid struggle to clear his congested lungs.

"Jesus Christ, Donna, where have you been?!" Harvey half-shouted with poorly-disguised relief as his secretary finally reentered his office. Then he noticed that she was already carrying a thermometer and a wet washcloth. "How do you _do _that?" He asked in bewilderment.

"I'm Donna. I know everything," she said mysteriously before kneeling down by Mike. Harvey raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, fine. One of the temps came and told me what he saw and I figured it was faster to get supplies right away rather than come here and have to leave to get them later."

"You can't leave," Harvey said, trying not to sound panicky. "Donna, seriously, I have no clue what I'm doing right now—"

She just ignored him. "Wake up, sweetie," she said softly, gently smoothing the hair off Mike's sweaty forehead.

Mike blinked a few times. "Donna?" he croaked.

"I hear you don't feel so good, huh?" Donna said.

Mike shook his head and sniffled pathetically.

"Alright, well why don't we take your temperature, okay?" Donna continued softly, still soothingly stroking his hair. For the first time Harvey fully appreciated Donna's maternal way with Mike because he nodded again and dutifully opened his mouth for her. Harvey didn't know if he would have been capable of using that sweet, babying tone of voice to coax the sick teenager into action.

They all waited in silence for a few moments while the thermometer did its work. Donna seemed perfectly at ease, Mike was just kind of out of it, and Harvey was pacing around in the background.

Donna took the thermometer to read it and Harvey and felt his heart plummet in his chest when she turned to him and motioned him over, a flash of concern illuminating her face for the first time since she had entered the office.

"You're going to have to take him to the hospital or the doctor's, Harvey," she said in a hushed tone. "This isn't just a cold— his fever's at 103.1. That's bad."

"But you're coming with, right?" Harvey asked, hating how insecure he sounded right now. But as he looked at Mike, who had his eyes open but wasn't really looking at anything, he realized that this situation was far beyond his comfort zone. What if something happened? He wouldn't know what to do.

Donna shook her head. "You take him; I'll go back to your condo and get things ready for when you two come back— it looks like you're in for a rough couple of days. At least it's a Friday; you have the whole weekend for him to recuperate."

"But Donna, really—" Harvey tried to protest but she cut him off.

"Mike? Harvey's going to take you to the doctor's. Okay, honey?" She said, a mask of calm settling back over her face for Mike's sake. She placed the wet washcloth on his forehead to begin the process of trying to bring his temperature down.

"I don't want to go to the doctor's," Mike whispered plaintively, his hoarse voice making him sound much younger than fourteen. "I just want to go home, Harvey." It made Harvey's stomach jump weirdly to hear Mike refer to the apartment as 'home.' But then again, maybe the kid was so out of it that he thought he was going back to his grandmother's apartment.

"Sorry, Mike," he said, and he really _was _sorry. "But we have to go. We need to figure out what's wrong with you before we can fix it. Okay, buddy?" He couldn't remember ever calling anyone besides Paul 'buddy,' but it seemed like a situationally appropriate motivational tool— and it was manlier than cooing over the kid like Donna. He ignored the knowing smile on Donna's face at his far-gentler-than-normal tone of voice.

"Okay," Mike rasped, weakly attempting to stand. Harvey hurried over to his side and wrapped his arm under Mike's shoulder and around his back to help him, not wanting another repeat of Mike's earlier collapse. Donna tossed him his wallet and keys. She went to go reschedule the appointment Harvey had with a client for that evening and told them she'd meet them at the apartment later.

And so began the long and arduous process of walking to the elevator and down to the car. Mike was holding his own pretty well but he had to stop every couple yards to regain his equilibrium— the fever was making him dizzy.

When they finally made it out to the car, Harvey helped Mike lay down in the backseat and then took off. He decided to just bring Mike to the closest hospital since he didn't know any doctors and he didn't know what kind of doctors you took teenagers to. Did they still go to the pediatrician? Or to the adult doctor? Or did they have their own special doctors? He had a feeling that Donna would laugh at him if he asked her these questions, so he decided the hospital was the safest bet.

At every stoplight he turned to make sure that Mike was still breathing. He appeared to be sleeping but his face was screwed up a bit in discomfort. He really hoped the kid wasn't going to puke in the back seat. The upholstery was worth a small fortune.

When they got there, Harvey parked and half-dragged, half-carried Mike into the emergency room where he was given several forms to fill out by a harried nurse who looked like she hated her life. He ushered Mike over to a small two-person bench and sat down next to him, figuring that this way he'd be able to catch the kid if he keeled over again. What he didn't expect was for Mike to immediately snuggle into his side, rest his head on Harvey's shoulder, and fall back asleep, apparently having decided that Harvey would make a good pillow.

Mike's flushed face looked peaceful and Donna wasn't here to take embarrassing pictures, so Harvey decided to just let it be. He began filling out the forms, grateful that Mike was on his left side so that his writing hand was free.

"Are you allergic to anything?" Harvey asked the air, trying to diffuse a little of the one-sided tension he was feeling.

Mike didn't answer, of course; he was still asleep. What he _did _do was scoot even closer to Harvey. Now Harvey's left arm was pinned to his side uncomfortably and Mike's messy blond hair was tickling his neck. He realized that he could feel the heat radiating off Mike's body through his suit and hoped that the doctor would hurry up.

His left arm was starting to lose feeling so he had no choice but to pull it out from where it was wedged between his body and Mike's and put it around Mike's shoulders, effectively drawing him even closer in a sort of sideways hug. He felt like a thirteen-year-old at the movies with his first girlfriend, trying to subtly wrap an arm around Mike like this— but it was only for the sake of maintaining proper blood flow in his left arm, of course. It had been a very long time since he had had physical contact with someone that was completely platonic and nonsexual, and he had forgotten how…nice it was to feel the weight of another human being leaning on him, depending on him for comfort.

He filled the forms out as best as he could, although there were several gaps in his knowledge about Mike's medical history that he knew he'd have to rectify later.

Finally the doctor came over and Harvey looked up and barely suppressed a groan. Through some bizarre twist of fate and coincidence, Dr. Brown— the surgeon who had handled Edith's case almost two months ago— was standing in front of them, smiling brightly. He clearly remembered them.

"Mr. Specter!" Dr. Brown exclaimed jovially, and Harvey had to resist the urge to bang his head on the wooden magazine rack next to him. "Good to see you again!"

"Yes," Harvey said simply, accepting the doctor's proffered handshake.

"I'm guessing you're here because young Michael isn't feeling too well, eh?" Dr. Brown boomed so loudly that Mike shifted and opened his eyes. When he realized that he was leaning onto Harvey he blushed and weakly pushed away, carefully avoiding eye contact with his guardian. Harvey thought he heard Mike mutter "no shit, Sherlock," in Dr. Brown's general direction and resisted the urge to smirk.

"That would be correct," Harvey said a bit more diplomatically. He hoped Mike's fever had gone down a little— who knew what Mike, who was already prone to rambling at the best of times, would tell Dr. Brown now that he was half delirious with fever?

"Alright, well, why don't you bring him back and we'll have a look and see what we can do about making him feel better!" Dr. Brown said, taking the clipboard of forms from Harvey and scanning through them.

"You don't know if your son is allergic to anything?" Dr. Brown said, looking at the sections Harvey had left blank in puzzlement.

Harvey scrambled to think of something to say. "Penicillin," Mike rasped quietly. Harvey winced; that was definitely something he should have known. What if Dr. Brown had prescribed that for Mike without him knowing?

"I didn't have time to finish filling out the forms," Harvey said lamely, because the blank spots were patched all over and not just at the end. Dr. Brown still looked a bit confused but didn't press the issue.

"Alright, well, I'll just ask if I need to know any of the information you didn't have a chance to fill out. Come on, we can head back to the examining room," Dr. Brown said, leading them back through the double doors and out of reception. It was slow going; Mike was still leaning heavily on Harvey for support.

"How is your mother doing, Mr. Specter?" Dr. Brown asked casually as they walked.

"Much better, thanks. Do you work here at this hospital now?" Harvey asked.

"No, no. I'm just filling in for a colleague for the day. Funny that I should run into you two here, no?" Dr. Brown said, chuckling merrily at this grand joke.

"Yeah, hilarious," Harvey muttered sarcastically under his breath. He really hoped Mike wouldn't blow their cover and say that he wasn't Harvey's son. He didn't feel like having to explain the whole story to Dr. Brown, who apparently was very energetic and obnoxious when it wasn't two in the morning.

They got into the examination room and Harvey helped Mike onto the table.

"Alright, so what seems to be the trouble?" Dr. Brown asked as he washed his hands and pulled on gloves.

"He's been coughing a lot, and it sounds pretty bad. There's also a fever of a little over 103, chills, dizziness, lethargy— he's been completely out of it the past hour or so. Fainted for a minute when he came into my office after school," Harvey listed, trying to keep the concern out of his tone and resisting the urge to wring his hands together nervously.

Dr. Brown began checking Mike out then, feeling his lymph nodes and listening to his heart rate and telling him to breathe deeply (which only resulted in Mike trying to hack his lungs up). Although Mike was responsive to what Dr. Brown asked of him, he didn't say anything and he seemed to be submerged in a feverish haze.

Dr. Brown had him stick a thermometer under his tongue and when it beeped he frowned slightly.

"It's at 103.3 now," he said. "That's very high, but it's not life threatening until it starts getting past 104 or 105."

"Are you sure the fever's not…brain damaging him or something?" Harvey asked, unable to disguise his worry now— he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if Mike got sick on his watch and somehow lost his incredible memory. "He hasn't been talking much and he seems a bit…unresponsive."

"I'm sure he's okay— with a fever this high some degree of delirium is to be expected. It's definitely pneumonia, Mr. Specter. I'm going to put him on a pretty aggressive dose of antibiotics and write a prescription for an inhaler in case the coughing gets too bad. Fortunately it's walking pneumonia at this point so he can go home with you and recover there. Make sure he gets a lot of rest and plenty of fluids— and he'll probably have a lingering cough for a week or two." Dr. Brown said, beginning to scrawl out prescriptions. "But bring him back immediately if his fever gets above 104 or if he seems to worsen dramatically. You're lucky you came in now— if you had waited a few more hours it could have gotten much worse and we'd be looking at at least a week-long hospital stay."

"Alright," Harvey said, trying not to panic. He could hardly take care of Mike at the best of times and now he was being trusted with the life of a sick fourteen-year-old? God help them all.

Fortunately the hospital had a pharmacy where they were able to get Mike's medicine and inhaler ready very quickly, so Harvey got the pills and managed to get Mike to the car where he wearily lay down in the backseat once again. Harvey quickly texted Donna to let her know the diagnosis and that they were on their way back to the apartment.

"Wait," Mike rasped suddenly when they were about halfway to the apartment. "My bike."

"Your bike is at the apartment, Mike. You took a cab this morning, remember?" Harvey asked, growing slightly concerned at Mike's confusion.

"No— the taxi lady said there was a crash and it would take too long… so I rode my bike to school," Mike said slowly. "I think it's at the firm right now but I don't quite remember for some reason. What day is it, Harvey?"

"It's Friday. And no wonder you got sick! Riding your bike around the city in the freezing cold— of all the ridiculous—" Harvey continued mumbling angrily in the front seat. "We'll worry about the bike later. You and I are going to be having a talk about this when you're not delirious with fever. And I really need to get a personal driver."

(SUITS)

Harvey got Mike back to the apartment where they were met by Donna, who was had made herself completely at home in Harvey's kitchen and was making chicken noodle soup.

"Donna," Harvey said. "You're—"

"Amazing? Incredible? A goddess amongst women? Yes, I know. You don't have to thank me with words— a healthy bonus at the end of the year will do," Donna said, stirring merrily away at her pot on the stove.

"You're in my kitchen making soup? And where did you get that apron? And these vegetables?" Harvey asked in bewilderment. They had been at the hospital for barely an hour.

"I bought them at the store, Harvey," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Honestly, it's no wonder Mike got sick— you have no food besides frozen pizza and Chinese leftovers in this apartment."

"That's not true," Harvey defended. "We have the fixings for grilled cheese sandwiches."

"And I think there's a bag of Doritos somewhere," Mike piped up helpfully.

"My point exactly," Donna said wryly.

Mike had another coughing fit and Donna began fussing over him for the next five minutes until it looked like the kid was going to fall asleep right there standing in the kitchen.

"Why don't you go get into your pajamas while I get the first dose of these pills ready for you," Harvey instructed. Donna helped Mike take his jacket off and Mike began trudging to the office to change, his hand pressed against his forehead as though to ward off a headache and dizziness. "Hey, wait a minute, are you wearing one of my Harvard sweatshirts?"

"Uhh…maybe?" Mike said.

"Where did you even find that?" Harvey asked, puzzled.

"I don't know…does it matter? It's really warm and it's not like you ever wear it. I'm sick, you can't get mad at me for taking it," Mike croaked.

"Yes, those arguments will definitely hold up in court when you get arrested for theft," Harvey said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well…I'll just hire my grammy's lawyer to defend me," Mike said and then he sniffled pathetically and wiped his nose on the sleeve of Harvey's sweatshirt.

Harvey winced at this. "Yeah, I don't want that back until it's been thoroughly sanitized."

Mike just shrugged and disappeared into the office. He emerged a few minutes later, still looking slightly unsteady on his feet. This time he was wearing a pair of old, faded sweats and—

"You've got to be kidding me," Harvey said. "You stole a t-shirt too? Have you been wearing my clothes this entire time without me noticing?"

"It's comfy! And once again, it's not like you noticed it was missing," Mike defended. The Harvard t-shirt he had on was too big on his frame and it made him look like a little kid dressing up in his older brother's clothes.

Harvey just shook his head in exasperation. "Alright, junior. Come over here and take these pills."

"You two are so adorable," Donna sighed, watching their interactions with a dreamy smile on her face as she sliced carrots for the soup.

Mike made a face but complied dutifully, wincing as the pills went down.

"I should start on my homework," Mike said hoarsely.

Donna turned sharply, wielding the knife that she was cutting carrots with. Both Mike and Harvey backed away nervously.

"You will do no such thing, Mike," Donna said firmly. "You are going to go to bed and rest for the next few days. No homework and no Harvey-work. Understood?"

"Yes, Donna," Mike said quickly.

Then she turned to Harvey. "You are going to make sure that Mike gets plenty of rest and fluids and that he doesn't overdo it, understood?" She brandished the knife in his general direction and waved it with each word to emphasize her point.

"Yes, Donna," Harvey said equally as quickly as Mike had done.

"Good," Donna said, her famous temper subsiding as quickly as it had come. "Mike, do you want some of this soup? It's almost ready."

"Thanks for making me the soup, Donna," Mike said politely. "But I think I'm just going to bed right now. I'll definitely eat some later when I don't feel so nauseous."

"Yes, being in Harvey's presence for too long will do that to you," Donna said sagely, ignoring the rather rude hand signal Harvey flipped in her direction. "Why don't you just go sleep it off, sweetie? I'm sure you'll feel much better tomorrow once those antibiotics start to kick in."

"Thanks for everything, Donna," Mike said, and he shyly darted forward and hugged her briefly before heading off to bed.

"You lucked out with that one, Harvey," Donna said fondly as Mike shut the door.

Harvey rolled his eyes, sensing another talk about emotions and feelings headed in his direction.

"I'm serious! Imagine if you had been forced to take in that Trevor kid instead of Mike— the two of you would have killed one another by now," Donna said. "And Mike would have followed Trevor on his path of self-destruction without you there to stop him."

"Yes, well, I have Mike and not Trevor. So there's no point in play the 'what-if' game," Harvey said, hoping that Donna could tell that he wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart.

Donna nodded slowly. "Alright, whatever you say. But I think we both know that you know that you're glad you've taken Mike in. And I think you're scared about what will happen when the trial is over and Mike moves back with Edith. But I'm just warning you Harvey— do not push that boy away in your fear or I will send out a mass email telling everyone at Pearson Hardman about the can opener. And then I'll use this knife to cut off a certain favorite piece of your anatomy. Don't hurt him— he worships the ground you walk on; I don't think he could bear it if you tried to distance yourself from him. Just— I know it's hard for you to make yourself emotionally available to people, especially someone like Mike who is a temporary fixture in your life right now, but just…take care of him, okay?"

Harvey nodded, suddenly unable to meet his secretary's eyes. She knew him too well. Pushing people away was a classic Harvey defense mechanism and Harvey knew he'd be tempted in the near future to distance himself from Mike so that it didn't matter as much when he was gone next month.

"I'll take care of him," he promised seriously. Donna nodded and gathered up her things to leave. She bid him farewell and seemed to scan his face looking for something. Her gaze softened and Harvey wondered if she had found what she was looking for.

(SUITS)

Harvey awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to the sound of Mike screaming— or rather, it _would _have been screaming were it not for the fact that he didn't have much of a voice at the present time. Instead, it was a garbled, painful sort of shrieking.

He was on his feet instantly and he grabbed the baseball bat that he kept in the bedroom just to be on the safe side. Upon seeing that there was no one in the kitchen or den, he crept over to Mike's room (and when had the office turned into 'Mike's room,' exactly?) and pushed open the door.

Mike wasn't being attacked by someone as Harvey had initially feared. Instead he was in the throes of a rather intense nightmare. Harvey didn't know if that was good news or not— he could easily kick a burglar's ass with his bat, but comforting distraught children wasn't exactly his forte. Harvey dropped the bat and hurried to Mike's side, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Mike," he said quietly but insistently, gently shaking Mike's shoulders. "Mike, wake up. You're fine. You're at the apartment with Harvey. Wake up, kid."

He continued this mantra until Mike's screams died down to whimpers. Finally Mike opened his eyes, gasping for breath. His face was illuminated slightly by a ray of moonlight and Harvey could see confusion and disorientation in his expression. Finally it seemed to click where he was and what was happening and Harvey saw him flush with embarrassment.

"Sorry, Harvey," he said hoarsely, wincing as his sore throat protested against his earlier attempts to scream.

"Here, drink this," Harvey said, passing him a glass of water from the bedside table. Mike took it and drank greedily. Then he handed the empty cup back to Harvey, drew himself into a sitting position, and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs in a self-soothing, self-protective move that would have made Harvey's heart ache if he ever admitted to having one.

"Sorry," Mike repeated. "I have nightmares sometimes. It's worse when I'm sick. I get confused about what's real and what isn't."

"Don't apologize, kid. You want to talk about it?" Harvey asked.

Mike wordlessly shook his head.

Harvey stood up and Mike suddenly snaked his hand out and grabbed Harvey's wrist.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly when Harvey turned back to look at him, as if just realizing what he had done, as if it was shameful that he didn't want Harvey to leave. "I know I'm keeping you awake. You can go if you want, of course. Sorry." He let go of Harvey's wrist and looked away.

_Oh, Michael. _He actually though that Harvey was going to abandon him when he was sick and had just had a nightmare? He felt the now familiar homicidal urge to go hunt down the infamous Mr. Jensen and kill him for traumatizing Mike like this. "I'm not going anywhere, Mike. I was just going to grab your medicine— it's time for another dose. I'll be right back, okay?" He said. Mike nodded, still looking embarrassed but slightly less nervous now.

Harvey hurried to the bathroom and grabbed Mike's pills and a fresh glass of water. When he returned to Mike's room, he was still exactly where he had been before. He accepted the proffered pills and water and swallowed them down quickly.

"Move over," Harvey said. Mike looked him in bewilderment and scooted a little closer to Harvey, who was standing by the edge of the bed.

"No, the _other _way over," Harvey said. Mike, still looking baffled, dutifully moved over to the other side of the bed, still curled around himself and still leaning against the headboard. "I don't want to sit on the floor, it's too uncomfortable," Harvey explained.

He took a seat next to Mike and moved so that they were sitting side by side, Mike still curled up in his little ball of misery and Harvey with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back resting against the headboard.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Harvey didn't really know how to begin this conversation and he didn't want to press Mike to talk about things he wasn't ready to talk about so he just sat and hoped that Mike trusted him enough to open up to him. Finally—

"I dreamed about my parents dying," Mike said quietly, his voice cutting sharply through the darkness. Harvey waited for more— the morbid part of him was dying to know what had happened but the other half of him wanted to shush Mike and tell him that he never had to think about the experience again.

"I was in the backseat of the car when it happened," he continued. "It was a rainy night and we started hydroplaning on the highway. We were upstate in the middle of nowhere, so nobody else was on the road. The car flipped. My dad died on impact but my mom was conscious for a little while. She didn't say much, just my name and my dad's name. Over and over. And then she just stopped talking. And she wouldn't start talking again, no matter how much I begged her to."

Harvey wanted to tell him to stop; that he didn't need to talk about something so traumatic, but Mike was clearly lost in the memory, his gaze far away in a terrible place that Harvey couldn't even imagine.

"I was there for hours, just screaming my head off for help. I wasn't hurt—minor cuts and bruises— but I was pinned. And I couldn't get out by myself until the paramedics came. But in my nightmares help doesn't come. And I'm just stuck in the backseat of that car forever, waiting for a savior that isn't coming."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Harvey said somewhat emptily, because what else can you say to someone who has been through hell and back? Sure, Harvey had had rough times— his mother was an adulterer who broke their family into pieces that they could never quite fit back together after she left. And his father's death was still hard to bear. But compared to Mike, whose entire life had been ripped away from him at such a young age, that was nothing. And there were no platitudes that Harvey could say to make it better, no words he could say that could erase Mike's pain and bring his parents back. All he could do was sit here and offer his presence while Mike grieved.

"It's okay," Mike said, but his voice was small and Harvey could feel that he was trembling with barely suppressed emotion next to him.

And he wasn't sure what made him do it exactly— maybe it was because it was what his dad would have done for him if he was upset or what he would do for Paul in a similar situation or because he was afraid of what Donna would do to him if he didn't do this—but he carefully slid his arm around Mike's shoulders and pulled him into an unprecedented second sideways hug of the day.

Mike stiffened for a second and Harvey swore internally and wondered if this was a huge mistake and if he was scaring Mike by initiating unexpected and uncharacteristic physical affection. But then Mike seemed to dissolve suddenly and melt into Harvey's side, his head resting midway between Harvey's shoulder and his chest, his fingers tangling themselves in Harvey's t-shirt. And Harvey could feel Mike's slight frame shaking with silent sobs that made Harvey's chest ache with empathy.

Normally he despised gratuitous displays of emotion or people crying all over the place about nothing, but if anyone deserved to have a good cry and be comforted in the process, it was Mike. Knowing how overprotective the kid was of Edith, it wouldn't surprise Harvey if Mike tried to avoid crying in front of her so as not to worry or upset her. He tightened his arms around Mike as he wondered how long the teen had been carrying this burden of pain alone on his thin young shoulders; how many nights he had cried alone with no one to comfort him.

Once Mike's sobs died down, Harvey handed him a Kleenex and they sat in silence, upper bodies still tangled together.

"Sorry, Harvey," Mike said quietly.

"You need to stop apologizing for things that don't require an apology," Harvey rebuked gently. "A good lawyer never apologizes for his actions."

"It's just….sometimes everything just gets to me, you know? And I don't want to be a baby because I know I'm fourteen and everything. But no matter how hard I try I can't keep it in," Mike said, obviously embarrassed by his previous tears.

"Don't keep it in, kid. You'll just end up like me then," Harvey said, shaking his head.

"But I want to be like you," Mike said very quietly. Harvey wasn't sure what to say to that.

They sat in silence for a long time then. Harvey glanced down after awhile, wondering if Mike was asleep. But his eyes were open, although he was blinking slowly every few seconds.

"Do you think you could try to go back to sleep now?" Harvey asked, his tone hushed. He didn't know why exactly, but it seemed like the tone of voice one should use at three in the morning after comforting a kid after a nightmare.

Mike nodded against him and slid down so that he was lying down, his head on the pillows. Harvey scooted over and off the bed.

"I'm just going to grab the chair, okay? I'll be right back," Harvey said and Mike just blinked sleepily at this. Harvey hadn't cried in years but he remembered how bone tired it made you afterwards.

He went and grabbed the desk chair and pulled it over next to Mike's bed. Mike had his eyes closed and his breathing was low and even. Harvey reached out to feel Mike's forehead (which felt hot but not dangerously so) but oddly enough his hand got stuck in Mike's hair then and he had to card his fingers through it a couple of times to smooth out the tangle that he was caught in. And then his hand just kept doing it, gently smoothing the locks away from Mike's face. It was odd that his hand should do such a thing (Harvey had a feeling that Donna would be running around screaming if she were here to observe this side of her boss) but it was making Mike smile so he kept on going until he was certain that Mike was asleep.

He knew that he could probably leave now that Mike was down for the count, but he went and got some paperwork and stayed in his chair working for the next couple of hours, mulling over the revelations of the night and keeping his fingers crossed that Mike wouldn't have another nightmare.

Mike had said that in his dream he kept calling for help but nobody came. Well, Harvey couldn't go back in time and change what had happened to Mike and rescue him from the flipped car back then. But he could sit here and guard Mike from his demons at least for tonight. And that wasn't much. But it was definitely something.

(SUITS)

"Harvey, do you suppose that Lord Voldemort has to eat and drink?"

Harvey looked up from his work in bewilderment. It was Monday and although Mike was doing much better, he still wasn't well enough to go back to school. He had spent the day at the apartment having a Harry Potter marathon while Harvey went in to the office. It was now the evening and they were both sitting on the couch, Mike still mindlessly watching and Harvey filling out paperwork.

"Why would I know the answer to that? And why would I care?" Harvey asked.

"I dunno. I'm just saying that if Harry Potter can kill him that means that he's technically alive. And if he's technically alive that means he has to eat and sleep and stuff. But I can't really imagine that— it would totally ruin his image as the Dark Lord if he was like 'oh hey, we'll have to wait til after dinner to kill those muggles; I want some sushi' or if he was like 'hey we can't attack Hogwarts yet, I've gotta go take a piss,' you know?" Mike rambled, obviously proud of this train of thought.

"You need help," Harvey said.

"I do not! You try watching Harry Potter all day and we'll see what kind of thoughts _you _come up with," Mike said before descending into a coughing fit. Thankfully the coughing was starting to clear up and was fewer and farther in between each time.

"Here," Harvey said, handing him his inhaler. Mike took two deep puffs and relaxed as air began filtering through his infected lungs again.

"Donna asked about you about 8 times today," Harvey said conversationally. "She wanted to come by and mother you to death a little bit more but I managed to hold her off."

"More like smother me to death," Mike grinned cheekily. The kid was in an odd mood tonight, Harvey mused before glancing at his watch.

"Alright, Lippy, time for bed," Harvey said, turning the TV off and steering Mike into his room.

"Aww, come on, Harvey. It's only nine o'clock!" Mike protested, sounding like a five-year-old that didn't want to take a nap.

"Yes, it's nine o'clock and you still have a slight fever," Harvey said, quickly feeling Mike's forehead before he could squirm away. "You'll never make it back to school at this rate."

"Maybe I don't want to go back to school," Mike muttered, flopping down onto the bed.

"And what will you do then instead? Drop out and deal drugs?"

"No, I've had enough drug deals to last me a lifetime," Mike said fervently.

"Me too, kid," Harvey said.

"Hey, Harvey?" Mike asked tentatively. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for getting sick— well, not really; I couldn't exactly help it— but I _am_ sorry that you've had to spend all this time taking care of me. I appreciate it— and you said before that you didn't want to pay any hospital bills the day we bought my coat. Look, I can't pay you back right now but once we get some money from the settlement I swear I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it. People get sick. It's not a big deal. And I was joking about the hospital bill, stupid," Harvey said.

"I got sick at the Jensens once," Mike said suddenly. "I think it was the flu. I was miserable— Mrs. Jensen shut me in my room and told me not come out until I was better except to use the bathroom. She said that Mr. Jensen couldn't be bothered with taking me to the doctor and that I wasn't to talk to the other children so that they didn't get sick and then she just left me alone."

Harvey was clenching his fists. He wanted to stand up and punch the wall or Mr. and Mrs. Jensen on Mike's behalf but this was the first time Mike had ever volunteered information about living with them so he kept quiet although it pained him to do so.

"I thought that I was dying. I kind of wished I would die," Mike confessed. "I don't wish that anymore, of course," he added quickly upon seeing Harvey's expression. "But my parents had just died and I thought I'd be spending the rest of my childhood in foster care at that point and I was sick and alone and things were looking pretty grim…anyway, I just want to say that I appreciate all that you've done for me the past couple of days. And nights," Mike added, blushing slightly. Harvey knew that he was thinking of his nightmare the first night of his illness.

"It was nothing," Harvey said gruffly. "Now go to sleep."

"Okay," Mike yawned, earlier protests forgotten as he snuggled under his covers happily. "Hey, Harvey? Do you ever wish that you were a wizard like Harry Potter? I think that we should go to Hogwarts together," Mike babbled, clearly half-asleep already.

"Okay, Mike," Harvey said to humor him.

"You'd be a good wizard, Harvey. You'd be a good dad, too," Mike murmured earnestly before drifting off into unconsciousness, leaving a rather startled Harvey staring at him and wondering how the hell they had gotten to this point and how they were ever going to return to their normal lives once this was all over.

**Well there you have it: two side-hugs in one chapter! And one of them initiated by Harvey! This is becoming so fluffy haha. Perhaps someday there will be a full out frontal hug….which sounds a little creepy but oh well. I know that Mike wasn't actually in the car with his parents when they died but I mentioned that he was in chapter one before we knew what happened in canon so I thought I'd keep it that way and just traumatize Mike a little more lol. I know that this was basically just plotless hurt/comfort, but I did have a lot of fun writing caring!Harvey. Hope you enjoyed reading it! Hopefully I'll be able to post again in about a week, although it might take me a little longer because I'm still getting readjusted to having class all the time and actually having to do productive things with my life. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Wow! I can't believe that this story has gotten more than 300 reviews- you guys are all the best, especially since I have no clue what I'm doing muddling around this storyline most of the time (cough this chapter cough). I send all of you a virtual hug of appreciation for bearing with me and reviewing and favoriting and following :) Sorry but I think an update every 2ish weeks is going to be the new pattern- there just aren't enough hours in the day for me to be able to write and post a new chapter every week now that I'm back at school but I promise I won't abandon you guys :D So here's chapter 12- you're probably all going to hate me after you read it. Get ready for some angst! And page breaks, because I know how to do those now!**

* * *

_So you lost your trust and you never should have_

_No, you never should have_

_But don't break your back_

_If you ever hear this, well don't answer that_

_Cause in a bulletproof vest with the windows all closed_

_I'll be doing my best and I'll see you soon_

_From "See You Soon" by Coldplay_

"Harvey, I…can't….breathe!" Mike gasped, his fingers scrabbling at the scarf that Harvey had just wrapped snugly around his neck. Okay, so maybe he was being a little overdramatic but he really didn't see why Harvey was trying to make him wear two scarves simultaneously. All they were doing was walking out to the car and then he was going to walk into school after they drove there. But Harvey had made him put on his heavy jacket zipped completely up, hat, gloves, and a scarf. And then he had tried to add on a second scarf for added warmth but it was currently cutting off Mike's air supply.

He managed to loosen the scarf and tossed it at Harvey in frustration, resisting the strong urge to stamp his foot on the kitchen floor. "I'm _not _wearing two scarves out in public, Harvey. You're being ridiculous."

Harvey picked up the scarf and moved forward casually as though to subtly try and put it back around Mike's neck—as if Mike wouldn't have noticed?

"Stop," Mike said firmly, backing up. "This is becoming a reccurring pattern; you trying to smother me and cover me in outerwear! It ends here!" He exclaimed in exasperation. Harvey put the scarf down reluctantly.

"Thanks," Mike said before fanning himself. "Jesus, it's hot in here. Can we go?"

"You're hot? Maybe your fever's come back," Harvey said, his hand reflexively coming up to feel Mike's forehead. Mike ducked away quickly and held his hands up in front of him to ward off Harvey's advance.

"_Harveeeey_," he groaned in frustration. He appreciated Harvey's concern for his health but this was getting a bit ridiculous. "Maybe I'm hot because it's 70 degrees in this apartment and I'm wearing a down jacket, gloves, a hat, and a scarf! Come on, let's go. I don't have a fever, I don't feel sick anymore, and I'm dying to get back out into the real world, even if it's only to school. I've been in this apartment for 6 straight days. I'm going to go insane if I stay here for five more minutes!"

With that Mike grabbed his backpack, marched over to the elevator, and pressed the down button with a dramatic flourish.

"Alright, fine," Harvey called. "But if your lung infection comes back and you get yourself landed in the hospital don't expect me to sit beside your unconscious body in the hospital."

This was such a preposterous lie after all that Harvey had done for Mike the past few days that Mike found himself simultaneously tempted to laugh raucously and bang his head on the glass elevator wall. He settled for a slightly hysterical giggle, the prospect of his impending return to the real world making him feel slightly giddy.

Harvey just rolled his eyes and sighed as they walked out to the car.

Mike cleared his throat slightly nervously. "Uh…Harvey?" he asked shyly. "My debate team is going to the state competition next Friday and it's at a nearby school. I've been chosen to give a big speech…would you, um…that is, do you want— will you come?" He waited with bated breath for Harvey's response.

Harvey looked like he was reviewing his mental calendar. "Sure," he said after a moment. Mike let out a sigh of relief.

"Really? You'll really come? You promise?" Mike asked excitedly.

"Yes, I promise. Because I know if I don't then I'll have to deal with Donna riding my ass about it," Harvey grumbled. "But you do know that I'm just coming to your speech, right? I'm not buying you a car or taking you to Disneyworld. So simmer down a little over there— it's too early for so much unbridled joy."

Mike couldn't help but beam anyway. "Thanks, Harvey! This is going to be better than Disneyworld— not that I would know, I've never been. I've never really been anywhere actually— but if I could pick one place to go to I think it'd be Washington D.C. I want to see all the museums and—"

"Mike," Harvey cut him off. "Too early still. Keep it down over there."

"Oh, right. Okay," Mike said quickly, his happiness still undiminished. He spent the entire ride to school resisting the urge to stick his head out the window and breathe in the cold winter air and rejoice that it no longer made his lungs ache and burn (he refrained because of all the inevitable puppy jokes that Harvey would have made upon Mike sticking his head out the window).

When they pulled up at school Harvey took one look at Mike's animated expression and smirked. "Are you actually _excited_ to be back at school? Anxious to see your girlfriend, huh?"

"I already told you, Rachel's _not_ my girlfriend. She's just a friend!" He said emphatically, trying not to blush. Rachel had stopped by the apartment Tuesday upon learning that Mike was pretty sick and would be out for a few days. Harvey had been attempting to make Mike some scrambled eggs at the time and Rachel had immediately taken over and taught him how to do it properly. Then Mike and Rachel had chatted on the couch while Harvey conveniently disappeared into his bedroom for an hour. Her visit had cheered him up and helped him survive the remaining two days of his convalescence. But it was now Thursday and he was ready to rejoin the world. He wanted to clear his throat because it was a little phlegmy but he fought the urge because he knew the second he coughed Harvey would drag him back home and make him go back to bed.

"Bye, Harvey! I'll see you after school," he said quickly, grabbing his backpack and preparing to climb out of the car.

"Mike," Harvey said simply and Mike turned to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Call me if you start feeling sick again, okay? I don't want you overdoing it and getting sick again, understood? I've worked hard to keep you alive for the past week and I'd like to protect that investment of my time," Harvey said seriously. Mike nodded and rolled his eyes. _Uncaring my ass, _he thought. '_Protecting the investment of my time?' _What a liar. But it made him smile all the same. It had been a long time since anyone besides Grammy had fussed over him and now he had Harvey trying to bundle him up in excessive amounts of outerwear and Donna cooking soup and stopping by to mother him. Pneumonia sucked. But it didn't suck as badly with Harvey and Donna around.

* * *

Harvey had a very busy day. The Phillips financials needed reviewing, Mr. Brigham had wanted his due diligence done yesterday, and Grant Oliver wanted a patent filed ASAP. Consequently he had no time to spare worrying over Mike's health— not that he _was_ worried or anything. He just didn't understand why the kid had been so upset about wearing extra clothes; the whole reason he had gotten sick in the first place was because he had gone riding his bike around the city in December. You'd think that that would make one eager to dress warmly so as to avoid having a pneumonia relapse, but no, not Mike. Teenagers were completely irrational human beings, Harvey decided as he idly tossed one of his baseballs to himself while pondering the Griffin bylaws and _not _wondering if Mike, who was still at school, was feeling well or not.

Suddenly his phone rang and Harvey grabbed it and answered it without looking.

"Mike?" He said before he could stop himself or even register that the name had escaped his mouth.

"No, sorry, Harv. It's not your little golden boy— were you expecting a midday call from him? It must be hard for the two of you to spend the entire school day apart," came the condescending sneer of Travis Tanner over the line.

"What do you want, Tanner?" Harvey said, sitting up straight in his desk chair and slamming the baseball he had been tossing earlier into its holder with slightly more force than was strictly necessary.

"What, I can't call just to chat? Alright, that's fine— we can skip the pleasantries and get right down to business if that's what you want, Harv," Tanner continued and Harvey already felt the urge to punch the smarmy bastard in the face.

"You have two minutes and I'm hanging up, Tanner," Harvey warned. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this; he had patents to files and bylaws to write.

"That's generous of you. You're pretty busy over there, huh? Do they overwork their best closer at Pearson Hardman?" Tanner said, and Harvey knew he was just trying to push his buttons. But that didn't stop his fingers from flexing inadvertently, wanting to punch Tanner's smug face.

"I'm hanging up in ten seconds if you don't say something related to the McKinnon Pharm case," Harvey said.

"Alright, alright. Have it your way. Look, Harvey," Tanner said conversationally, "I'm calling to see if we can reach a settlement before this goes to court. That's what you're all about, right? I've read your D.A. records; you avoid trials like the plague. McKinnon has the resources to fight you for years and years. I think it'd be in your best interest if we settled outside of court, don't you?"

"No— I'm seeing this one all the way through, Tanner. Unless your client is ready to completely repay each one of its injured employees plus punitive damages and completely change who is on the board of directors, I think we'll be going to trial," Harvey said firmly.

"So those are your demands? Compensation, punitive damages, and complete turnover of the McKinnon board? No way, Harvey. My client hasn't knowingly done anything wrong. You say that your sources tipped you off that there are reports that McKinnon knew that they didn't pass the safety regulations for two years— well, you've got no proof of that. McKinnon doesn't have those reports on file. So good luck making your case in court, Harv. All you've got it hearsay and a bunch of safety reports that don't even exist. If I were you, I'd suggest that you take the deal I'm going to offer you," Tanner said confidently.

"You don't have shit, Tanner," Harvey said. "I've seen McKinnon's financials— they're going under and they're going under fast. So I actually think it's you who should be offering me a deal. Because you can't hold off forever and the negative publicity from this case is going to put McKinnon under."

"And yet you still don't have the safety reports as your proof, Harvey. And without them you have nothing. So here's my deal: we settle. Your clients Edith Ross, George Stanopolous, and Maria Santiago will each receive $200,000 as compensation for their injuries and in return they'll keep quiet."

"Absolutely not, Tanner. $200,000 is nothing. That won't pay for the hospital bills and physical therapy and all the time that those three couldn't work. We want bigger. Much bigger. Think millions, Tanner. That deal is shit," Harvey ground out.

"Wait, Harv. You haven't heard the last part of the deal. If you accept this deal and take the $600,000 to split between your clients, then maybe I _won't_ call child services to report my concerns about Michael's placement with Edith Ross," Tanner said and Harvey could hear a note of vindictive triumph in his voice.

"Are you actually trying to blackmail me, Tanner?" Harvey laughed incredulously, inwardly trying to keep his concern at bay. Tanner truly had no morals— using the custody of a 14-year-old child to try and back Harvey into a corner? Who did this guy think he was?

"Oh, no. Of course not— me? Blackmail? I would never, Harvey," Tanner said, his voice dripping with disingenuousness. "In fact, I'm offended that you would suggest such a thing. I'm just saying that _if _you took the deal then I might be so happy about my victory that I _might _just forget to call child services to report Edith Ross as a potentially unfit guardian…you catch my meaning?"

"Is this supposed to be a threat, Tanner?" Harvey asked.

"Of course not, Harvey. I'm just telling it like it is. I thought you'd appreciate that. After all, what did you honestly think would come of this? Did you think I'd be above using that kid to get to you once you made it clear that you _cared _about him and that he was off-limits?" Tanner said, his tone making it clear that he clearly didn't approve of any form of caring and that he was not afraid to take advantage of any weakness his opponent displayed. Normally this was an attitude that Harvey would applaud but it was different with Mike somehow.

"I'd kick your ass in family court, Tanner," Harvey said.

"What are you really expecting me to do, Harvey? You'd do the same in my place— that's what closers _do. _If you're ever going to make it anywhere you need to get rid of that kid— he's a weakness. People are going to use him to get to you. I'm doing you a favor, Harvey. Take the deal. And when the three months are up, let the kid go. You're just going to screw up his life, anyway. He looks up to you, doesn't he? Holds you on a pedestal? What's he going to think when he finds out more about you— cold, manipulative Harvey Specter. You'd choose your job over him any day, wouldn't you? Does he know the truth about you and your past? That perfect little Harvey Specter's mommy was fucking—"

Harvey slammed the phone down and ran a shaking hand through his hair, trying to contain his anger.

He was still just sitting at his desk, fists clenched, when Donna came in a few minutes later.

"Travis Tanner just called. He said to remind you that you're obligated to present his offer to your clients," Donna said quietly. She had missed most of the conversation between Harvey and Tanner because she only had one way access through the intercom, but Harvey was fairly certain that she had a decent idea of what had just happened based on Harvey's side of the conversation. She was omniscient, after all.

"Yeah, well, why don't you call Travis Tanner back to remind him that he can go—"

"Harvey," Donna said softly, cutting off what was certain to have been a crude remark. "Is he after Mike? Is that what the blackmailing thing is all about?"

"Don't worry about it, Donna," Harvey said gruffly. "I'm busy here— can you pick Mike up from school?"

Donna was silent for a moment. She pursed her lips and seemed to be using great restraint to keep herself from demanding more information from Harvey. She nodded and grabbed his keys off his desk before marching away silently, her heels still somehow managing to clatter on the muffled carpet floor.

Harvey stared at the files spread in front of him unseeingly— was Tanner right? Was he just screwing up Mike's life with his presence in it? After all, it wasn't like he had any clue what he was doing half the time he tried to take care of the kid. And not to mention all the messes Mike had gotten into while under Harvey's care— Trevor and the drugs, pneumonia….maybe _he _was the unfit guardian here. And if Harvey stuck around in Mike's life would he just continue to get hurt? After all, Tanner was shamelessly using Mike as leverage against Harvey to get what he wanted (although Harvey would find a way around it and would never give in). But that meant that other people would do that too. Could he do that to the kid? Could he constantly put him in a position to get hurt by being associated with Harvey as Harvey's weakness? _Should _he do that to the kid?

He knew that Mike looked up to him and suspected that he enjoyed living with him but Harvey wondered how much of it was really _him, _Harvey_. _Everyone knew that Mike was starving for a male role model; surely he would have indiscriminately attached himself to any man that had come along. Maybe Mike would be better off if Harvey pushed Mike away so that he went willingly at the end of the three months. If he cut Mike off forcibly— he suspected Mike would be trying his hardest to stick around in Harvey's life—then Mike would have a chance to find himself a proper mentor who knew what he was doing and wouldn't mess up the kid's life further. Sure, it would be hard on Mike initially but in the long run that seemed like what was best for the kid. And that was his job as Mike's guardian first and foremost— considering what was best for Mike and then doing it, no matter how hard it was— _press until it hurts._

The sad thing was, Harvey _actually kind of cared. _He would never admit it but he knew that Donna knew and Edith probably knew and Mike at least suspected. He didn't know how it had happened— at what point Mike had become such an integral part of his life— but it _had _happened. And it was a mistake. There could be only sadness from this thing between them—because Harvey Specter didn't do caring and he was only going to complicate Mike's life further by being a part of it. It was best to start cutting the kid loose now— he didn't want to hurt him, after all. And he knew that Mike desperately wanted Harvey to care about him and that this would hurt him to a certain extent. But it was better that he started pushing the kid away now so that he didn't have to do it in the future and hurt the kid more. Because Harvey couldn't just sit by and watch people use Mike to get to him. It wasn't fair to the kid. Mike deserved better. He deserved someone who knew how to take care of him.

Having resolved this painful decision in his mind, he carefully avoided meeting Donna's eyes when she and Mike returned to the office slightly later. Mike flung himself down on the couch as per usual and began chatting Harvey's ear off. He was so excited about being back in the real world that he didn't notice that Harvey barely responded to Mike's questions and stories. But Donna did. And she looked unsettled by it— because Harvey was about to do exactly what Donna had made him promise _not _to do when Mike was sick.

* * *

The next day Harvey began his plan of distancing himself from Mike. It wasn't terribly hard— he simply asked Donna to reschedule most of his appointments and meetings for the afternoon and evening so that he was never at the office after school, ignoring her suspicious eyebrow raise at this. He then told Mike that he was going to be busy with several high profile cases and that he wouldn't be at the office after school for awhile. He gave the kid one of his credit cards and told him to just get a cab back to the apartment every day after school because he was too busy to pick him up from school.

Harvey resumed the pace of life he had been living before Mike had moved in with him and didn't go back to the apartment until ten or eleven most nights. The first few nights this happened Mike had looked up from his homework when Harvey came in and had been practically exploding with energy, chattering Harvey's ear off with his usual exuberance, talking about what had happened at school and debate that day and asking Harvey about his cases and when they would be done so that he could come back to the office after school again. Harvey had just brushed him off gently each night (he didn't want to destroy the kid, after all, he just wanted to push him away) and after a few nights of this successive pattern Mike stopped looking up from his homework when Harvey came in and that eager smile was gone. And then a few nights after that Mike had been in his bedroom with the door closed when Harvey came in and had continued in this vein since then.

Harvey tried to ignore the guilt niggling at his conscience— he told himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about; that he was doing this for the kid's own good, anyway. He reminded himself that whatever hurt Mike was feeling now paled in comparison to the hurt he would feel later down the road when this inevitably would have happened. Still, Mike wasn't dealing with it as well as Harvey had hoped— he hadn't expected the kid to take it this hard. After all, they had only been living together for two months. But Harvey knew that Mike didn't really have that many other people in his life— Trevor was gone and Edith wasn't exactly readily available for action these days. He hadn't thought that Mike would be _this _distraught though— he emerged each morning from his bedroom and picked at half a piece of toast before getting into the car with Harvey and staring sullenly out the window the whole ride to school. He seemed to be regressing back to how he had been acting the first week he had moved in with Harvey and Harvey wasn't sure what to do— he couldn't exactly just _stop _avoiding Mike all of sudden and act normally around him. It would only make it harder in the end if Harvey acted hot and cold towards him— it was best to just end this— whatever _this _was— cold turkey, for both their sakes.

* * *

Mike was confused.

He had thought things had been going so well between Harvey and him, but now everything was…wrong. Harvey wasn't talking to him for some reason and was completely avoiding him. He had basically done a complete 180 and Mike didn't understand why.

He had been wracking his impressive memory the past few days trying to figure out what he had done wrong but he had no idea— was this all because he had refused to wear that stupid second scarf? Or was Harvey mad at him because he had been so much trouble to take care of when he was sick? Or maybe Harvey was angry with Mike for forcing Harvey to comfort him after his nightmare when he was sick?

Mike didn't know but he wished Harvey would have the balls to just _tell_ him what he had done wrong so that he could fix it. Because he desperately wanted— no, _needed—_to fix it. He just wanted everything to go back to how it had been before whatever it was that had upset Harvey in the first place.

He was embarrassed to admit it now, even to himself, but…well, he had kind of thought that maybe Harvey cared about him. He knew that Harvey cared in general— he had discovered that well-kept secret after watching his guardian at the homeless shelter on Thanksgiving. But Mike had thought (and hoped and prayed and wished) that Harvey cared about _Mike _too and not just random homeless people. After all, Harvey had taken care of him when he was sick, reluctantly or not. And he had bought Mike a warm winter jacket and made sure that Mike didn't have to ride his bike around in the cold. And he had fussed over Mike earlier that week, trying to bundle him up in the cold weather…so Mike had just assumed that maybe Harvey cared about Mike's wellbeing beyond his Grammy-ordered duty as legal guardian... it had been a long time since Mike had had a proper father figure in his life, but he had thought that that was kind of how Harvey had been acting. But he knew now that he must have been wrong although he didn't know why things had changed so abruptly. It was just a few days ago that Harvey had willingly agreed to go to Mike's speech competition, although it seemed like that had been years ago now. Had it really been just last week that Harvey had let Mike cry on his shoulder in the middle of the night after a nightmare? A week ago he probably would have said that Harvey was becoming like a part of his family. Just a few days ago he had laughed at the idea that Harvey wouldn't have sat by his bedside if he was in the hospital. But now? He doubted it. He didn't understand where it had all gone so wrong.

He cursed himself for getting so attached. Because now it hurt. It really hurt that Harvey was pushing him away like this with no explanation— like the past two months had been nothing; meant nothing. He had certainly lost people before— his parents, for one. And his grandpa. But at least that had been natural, no matter how unexpected. In this case he had no clue what he had done to make Harvey not want to be around him anymore. It was different to lose someone like this. It didn't hurt any more or less— it just hurt.

At first he had thought that maybe he was going crazy and overanalyzing Harvey's actions— maybe Harvey genuinely _was _busy with high profile cases. Maybe Harvey had somehow slipped an ice pick up his eye socket and lobotomized himself. Maybe Harvey genuinely wasn't at the office after school because he had so many meetings. But Mike had stopped by the office once or twice after school to see and Harvey had been sitting in his office poring over files like always. He hadn't left for his meetings until 6 or 7 at night; Mike definitely could have been following his normal after school routine.

Clearly something was up because Donna constantly seemed about two seconds away from throwing Harvey out the glass windows of his office and down into the street below. And since Donna thought that something was going on as well, he knew that he wasn't just imagining things. It just confirmed the fact that Harvey was avoiding Mike for some unknown reason.

Donna had been extremely supportive— she had taken to hugging him at every limited opportunity she got and she had begun trying to lift his spirits by bringing him baked goods and allowing him to use her computer to send Louis fake emails telling him that he had won a lifetime's supply of Depends underwear that would be delivered to his office in mass quantities in clearly marked boxes one day next week. This had temporarily lifted his spirits until he had glanced up from the computer screen that he and Donna were huddled over and seen Harvey in his office, his head bent over some papers and his gaze firmly away from Mike and Donna. Mike's smile had died then and Donna had huffed in frustration and mumbled unflattering things about Harvey under her breath before giving passing Mike his fifth homemade brownie of the afternoon.

But while Donna's support was nice and her cooking was really good and all, it wasn't the same as Harvey. Mike didn't know what it was about the older man that made Mike want to be around him and be like him one day, but he missed whatever it was now that Harvey had apparently decided to excise Mike from his life.

He had a hard time sleeping and eating because he just wanted things to go back to how they were before. _This_ was why you couldn't trust other people. Especially not adults and especially not adult men. Mike didn't know why he kept throwing himself out there and letting people hurt him. He thought it might be different this time around with Harvey but apparently that wasn't the case. And it sucked. It really sucked.

The only beacon of hope on the horizon was Mike's upcoming debate competition— Harvey had _promised_ to attend it and Harvey Specter neverbroke his promises. Maybe if Mike won the competition Harvey would be pleased with him (and maybe even a little bit proud?) and then it would make up for whatever Mike had done to make Harvey mad at him. _Harvey will come, _he told himself. But it lacked conviction, no matter how many times he repeated it in his head. _Harvey will come…right?_

* * *

Harvey was having a bad week. He found that he wasn't enjoying his old lifestyle anymore. Every time that he left the office to go to an evening meeting with a client he wished that he was going to the apartment instead to hang out on the couch with some takeout and watch Star Trek. It was alarming how domestic he had become— his hands automatically wanted to wash the dishes and check to see how much dirty laundry Mike had. But he settled for working on files alone at the kitchen table while Mike sequestered himself in the office, never saying a word to Harvey. Harvey kept expecting Mike to explode and demand to know why Harvey was pushing him away but all was quiet on the western front for the time being.

Finally after about a week of tense silence Mike suddenly seemed to recover one morning. He entered the kitchen with an extra bounce to his step and helped himself to two pieces of toast and some fruit. He was wearing his best jeans (which wasn't saying much, to be honest) and he attempted some small talk and actually didn't seem that offended or upset when Harvey didn't respond besides a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Harvey was internally cheered by this— he may have been reluctant to admit that he cared about Mike, but he couldn't deny that it was hard for him to watch Mike mope around like he had been as of late and know that it was his own fault. It was good to see that he was beginning to bounce back.

When he dropped Mike off at school, Mike grinned at him brightly. "See you later, Harvey!" He said before bounding off into school. Something about this farewell niggled at the back of Harvey's mind but he couldn't remember what it was that was strange about it. So he just dismissed it and went on with his day as normal. Or as normal as his day could be with Donna shooting him death glares the whole time. He suspected that she knew what was going on with him and Mike and she definitely didn't approve. Every time she entered his office to give him a file or a fax she'd purse her lips and frown at him like a disappointed mother waiting for her child to confess to his crimes. When Harvey wasn't forthcoming with any information she'd turn sharply on her heel and march out his office. Though she hadn't said anything yet, she wasn't afraid to let Harvey know that she was displeased via her body language. He was sure there would be a confrontation at some point but suspected that she was waiting for her suspicions to be confirmed first. So he buried himself in his work and tried to block out all external stimuli— he was sick of worrying about Mike and about Tanner and now about Donna kicking his ass.

He didn't notice as the hours ticked by and suddenly he looked up at his clock and realized that it was already half past ten at night somehow. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn't been sleeping well for the past week for some reason— maybe he needed a new mattress? He packed up his files to take home with him— he'd need something to do when the troubling dreams and ensuing insomnia inevitably struck tonight.

As he drove home he hoped fervently that Mike would already be asleep— it was really damn hard (harder than he had originally imagined) to see the crestfallen look on Mike's face every time Harvey brushed him off. The look in Mike's expressive blue eyes was hard to bear— he had promised both Edith and Donna that he would take care of Mike and not hurt him. But it was only hurting Mike in the long run if Harvey kept this up…right? He found himself beginning to doubt his plan to distance himself from Mike, but it was too late to back down now.

His headache was slowly morphing into a migraine and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and escape from reality for eight blissful hours of sleep. He entered the apartment and tossed his stuff on the table carelessly. Then den was dark and Mike's door was closed which generally meant he was in there. Harvey listened for a minute but he realized he couldn't hear anything from inside Mike's room. This was atypical— Mike usually had music going or he himself was singing. And Mike definitely didn't go to bed before 11 o'clock at night, especially not on a Friday.

Harvey knocked tentatively on Mike's door— he knew that this was definitely not cool and aloof of him and wasn't pursuant to his current plan of total avoidance but he was suddenly seized by the strong irrational feeling that something was _wrong._

When Mike didn't answer, Harvey slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the office door open. Mike's room was dark and Harvey couldn't hear the normal sound of Mike's slight snoring that was typically associated with the kid's sleep. He flipped the desk lamp on and his stomach dropped when he saw that Mike wasn't in bed. He stuck his head back out into the hallway and saw that the bathroom door was open and it was dark inside. He glanced around the floor and realized that Mike's converse were nowhere to be seen. And one glance over to the coat rack confirmed that Mike's winter jacket was missing as well.

He tried not to panic— maybe Mike had just gone to see his not-girlfriend Rachel and had forgotten to text Harvey. But he couldn't help the mental images that flooded through his brain— what if something had happened? What if those college kids that Trevor had sold the weed to had gone after Mike again? Or what if Mike had relapsed and gotten sick again and hadn't made it back from school that afternoon? Pictures of Mike laying hurt or seriously ill in an alley somewhere filled his mind and he realized he felt slightly nauseous. He kept messing up at taking care of the kid, damnit!

He crossed the room and sat down on the bed, trying to think. Where could Mike have gone? That was when a glint of gold caught his eye and he glanced over at the table next to the bed where a rather large trophy stood. Harvey couldn't recall seeing it before but he didn't really come in here that often, and he definitely hadn't been in here during the past week at all.

He picked the trophy up and read the placard at the bottom.

_Michael Ross, New York State Speech Competition_

_First Place, 2007_

Harvey winced. _Shit! Mike's speech competition was today. _He had _promised _the kid that he would be there and it had been this afternoon after school— so _that _was why Mike had been so excited this morning. He had thought that Harvey was coming to his competition because Harvey had promised that he would be there. And he had broken that promise.

Harvey felt ill. This was a mistake— he couldn't do this anymore. It was awful for him; it was awful for Mike. He realized now that his life was too entangled with Mike's for Harvey to be able to push the kid away. And what the hell had he been thinking, anyway, trying to shove Mike away like that in the first place? That was what Tanner had _wanted _and Harvey had played right into his hands.

He realized that there was a piece of paper next to where the trophy had been and he grabbed it desperately as soon as he recognized Mike's untidy scrawl.

_Harvey-_

_I'm going for a walk to clear my head. Don't know when I'll be back._

_-Mike_

Was all it read. Harvey leapt off the bed. It was past eleven o'clock at night and it was freezing outside. What had Mike been thinking? Where would he have gone? How the hell was he going to fix this?

He went to his room and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before pulling on his warmest jacket and pulling out his phone. He found the number he was looking for and hit dial.

"Donna," he said when she picked up, more relieved than he could say that she had answered. "I need your help."

She was going to kill him when he told her what he had done. But if that was what it took to find Mike and get him back home safe, so be it.

**Harvey, you stupid, stupid man! Anyway, don't worry, it'll all get resolved next chapter once Donna straightens Harvey out :D I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter but yeah...I'm just throwing it out there for you guys **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, happy weekend! Thanks to the two anonymous reviewers cheering me on to post this today :D I'm done with class for the day and once I post this I'm going to go back to bed for the next few hours and then wake up and watch the Avengers with my roommate :D Life is good right now haha**

**CHAPTER 13:  
**

_We're not the same as we used to be_

_The seasons have changed and so have we  
_

_There little we could say and even less that we could do  
_

_To stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you.  
_

_From "The Ice Is Getting Thinner" by Death Cab for Cutie  
_

* * *

"Harvey Reginald Specter, what the _hell _have you done?!"

Harvey winced as he heard Donna banging loudly on his front door. Despite the fact that he genuinely wanted to go find Mike and fix the mess he had created, he also found himself mightily tempted by the conflicting desire to seek out a pair of earmuffs and hide under his bed until Donna gave up with the banging and yelling and went away. But he bravely crossed to the front door and hastily unlocked it in the interest of avoiding a noise complaint from the neighbors (not to mention the fact that Donna would never give up and leave— she'd eventually just break the door down if he didn't answer).

"Harvey, you stupid, stupid man!" Donna exclaimed, flinging the door open on her own upon hearing Harvey unlock it. She waltzed inside the apartment in a tempestuous whirlwind of fury, her eyes gleaming and her hair seeming even more fiery than usual.

"Donna—" Harvey tried to say but was immediately cut off.

"Don't '_Donna' _me, Harvey Specter!" Donna said fiercely, slamming the door behind herself. "You went and did exactly what you promised you _wouldn't _do to Mike! You're supposed to be taking care of him, not ignoring him for weeks on end until he runs away!"

"I _know _that, Donna—" Harvey tried to cut in.

"Oh, you _know, _do you?" Donna said angrily. "You haven't even looked at Mike for a week; don't you dare stand there and tell me that you know what this has been doing to him, Harvey. Against all odds, he's managed to look even more so like an abandoned puppy than before. Despite the fact that I've been feeding him comfort food at every chance I get, he's lost weight and he looks like he hasn't slept in about 3 years. And you did that to him, after promising not to hurt him," Donna's voice had lost its anger and it was now just heavy and disappointed which made Harvey feel even worse. They had worked together for several years now and Harvey had heard her irritated, annoyed, and downright angry with him. But never disappointed. This was a new low for him. But he wasn't surprised that Donna was so passionate about this— everyone knew that she adored Mike. Mike, who had a way of sneaking into the crevices of one's life and filling up all the empty spaces that hadn't seemed empty before and leaving them gapingly open in his absence.

"You need to fix this," Donna said, her voice low and fierce. She poked Harvey in the chest for emphasis, hard.

"Ow," he said, rubbing the spot a little and trying to maintain his manly dignity. "Ok. That's going to bruise."

"Good, you big baby," Donna muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"Look, Donna, I was an idiot, okay?" Harvey said. Donna arched an eyebrow at him. "Okay, fine— I _am _an idiot. Happy? I messed up. I let Tanner get to me and then I started overthinking everything," Harvey said, beginning to pace back and forth. "If I could take the past week back, I would. And I didn't enjoy doing it, not one bit, and I _have _been watching Mike and I knew how hard this was on him. But I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, Donna, I promise. I knew that it would hurt Mike initially but it would have been better in the long run— he needs to find a better person to attach to. I mean, look at me, Donna— clearly I don't know what the hell I'm doing here," Harvey ranted unhappily, dragging one of his hands raggedly through his hair in frustration with his own shortcomings.

Donna's features softened slightly. "You're a good man, Harvey, though you hide it well. But you _are _an idiot. Can't you see that Mike doesn't want someone else in his life? He wants you. He chose to trust you and not someone else. You. And I know that no matter how hard you try to hide it, that terrifies you— the idea that someone is looking up to you and admiring your every move. But that's a good type of fear, Harvey, because it makes you a better person. And it makes you a better parent, too," Donna said quietly, unabashedly showing her support for the father-son relationship she imagined that they had.

"I'm not—" Harvey tried to say.

"Look, we don't have to label your relationship with Mike. But you should try to remember that you were a role model to Paul when he was younger and he somehow miraculously turned out all right. So stop doubting yourself— you and I both know that you care about Mike. But does he know? Because he deserves to. He trusts you, Harvey, which is nothing short of a miracle after all that that boy has been through. So don't abuse that trust," Donna said fervidly. Harvey wondered if she had been a war general in a previous life. "Now you and I sitting in here and arguing isn't going to change anything. So let's go find Mike and bring him back home."

Harvey nodded and grabbed his keys off the counter. "Where do you think he would have gone?" He asked.

Donna looked pensive. "My first guess would be to go see Edith. But then again, he wouldn't want to upset her so maybe he didn't go there. You know him better than I do, Harvey— where do you think he would have gone?"

"I don't know," Harvey said in frustration. "He won't answer his phone. He could be anywhere." He resumed pacing until Donna laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Harvey, Mike's fourteen and he's a bright kid. He'll be okay; he just went for a walk— panicking won't help anything. You drive around the neighborhood around here and I'll stop by the nursing home and ask the nurses if they've seen Mike, all right?"

They went their separate ways then. Harvey drove around the neighborhood, squinting so intensely through the murky darkness that he feared permanently straining his eyes. He went by everywhere he could think of— Mike's school, the nearby park, Trevor's old house, even Pearson Hardman. Nothing. He was seriously beginning to panic when his phone rang, the shrill noise cutting through the tense silence of his car. He grabbed his phone and quickly pressed answer without looking.

"Mike?!" He said instantly.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice was hushed and almost inaudible over the line but it felt like the best thing Harvey had heard in ages. His relief was quickly replaced with more concern, however, when he considered the fact that Mike was whispering for some reason.

"Mike? Are you okay? Where are you?" Harvey demanded, pulling his car over so that he could talk properly.

"I'm okay," Mike said, his voice still quiet. "But I think I need help, Harvey."

"Where are you?" Harvey said. Mike gave him an address and he scribbled it down on an old napkin quickly.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? What's going on?" Harvey questioned, pulling back onto the road and driving _way _over the speed limit.

"You're really going to come?" Mike whispered hopefully and it was a testament to how bad things were between them right now that Mike doubted Harvey would come help him in the middle of the night when obviously something dangerous was afoot.

"Yes, I'm really going to come, you idiot," Harvey said worriedly. He wanted to say that he promised he'd come but he'd broken too many promises lately to throw those words around lightly. "Now tell me what the hell is going on," he commanded.

He heard the slight sounds of a struggle, a muffled curse, and then nothing. Harvey felt his blood run cold as he pictured Mike lying dead or dying in an alley somewhere— it would be all his fault if something happened and Mike would die thinking that Harvey hated him. He knew on some level that he was probably overreacting but still….if he had needed a concrete, practical reminder of the fact that he wanted this kid safe, firmly alive, and in his life...well, this was certainly it. He stepped on the gas and drove like a maniac to the address that Mike had given him before he had fallen silent.

He pulled up in front of a small, well-kept little house and looked around, seeing nothing out of the normal. He was in what appeared to be a relatively safe neighborhood, and there was no sign of Mike or anybody else.

Harvey quickly got out of the car and began pacing around, wondering what the hell was his next step. Call Donna and plead for mercy?

His ears perked up suddenly as he heard a group of people drawing closer to where he was standing on the sidewalk. He suspected it was a group of teenagers based on the snatches of conversation he could overhear— that rumbling, not-quite-used-to-having-a-deep-voice tone that plagued Mike and the slurred quality of the words being exchanged implied inexperienced underage drinkers. Harvey suppressed a groan. He sincerely hoped that Mike wasn't with this group of hooligans and drunk off his ass— that would explain several things about his disappearance but he _really _didn't feel like dealing with a drunken Mike— the kid would be completely hammered after half a sip of a wine cooler and he suspected that being in the presence of an intoxicated Mike would mean dealing with tears, vomiting, dancing, singing, falling, attempted hugs, gratuitous physical affection, and many other things that Harvey really didn't feel like witnessing or being a part of right now. Still, a drunken Mike was still a present and alive Mike so he'd take it if he had to.

As the group drew even closer, Harvey quickly realized that Mike wasn't with them and felt his spirits sink. He couldn't make out much under the dim streetlights, but he could tell that there were about 5 or 6 boys and that these were older teenagers— at least 16 or 17 years old compared to Mike's 14. They hadn't noticed Harvey yet and he shamelessly eavesdropped on them— maybe they had some idea of where Mike was.

"Dude, where do you think that little piece of shit ran off to?" One of them said, stumbling slightly. Apparently it was hard work to muster up the coordination that walking and talking simultaneously required.

"I don't know, man…but we sure showed him," another said, guffawing loudly at their apparent brilliance. Harvey felt a terrible sinking feeling. He knew that statistically, the odds weren't that great that they were talking about Mike. But knowing that Mike was around here somewhere and also knowing Mike's luck…well, he wondered if right now he should be looking for unconscious, beaten-up Mike.

"Hey, maybe he went this way," another one said. "Let's go finish the job."

There were loud cheers of agreement and one of them threw an empty beer can over on the sidewalk by Harvey.

_CRUNCH. _Harvey slammed his foot on the can and crushed it. He smirked as the group froze and all turned to stare at the imposing figure standing on the sidewalk in the darkness.

"Good evening, boys," he said coolly. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a kid named Mike Ross around here tonight, would you? Probably a classmate of yours at school? About yea high? Blond hair? Has a lawyer here that'll kick your asses if you've done anything to him?"

"Hey, man. Take it easy— we haven't seen that little know-it-all around at all tonight. We see him enough at school as it is, we wouldn't go looking for him," one of them laughed, probably thinking he was very clever.

Harvey pulled out his phone. "Someone tell me the truth right now or I'll call the police and report you all for underage drinking," he said.

"We'll be able to run away before the cops get here, you know," one of them said, taking a swig from a flask.

"Maybe, but I don't think that Daniel's father will be too happy when I give him a call and tell him what his son's been up to tonight," Harvey said confidently. He had no idea if one of them was actually named Daniel or not, but it seemed statistically probable.

"Shit, bro, he knows who I am," one of them said stupidly and Harvey smirked at his successful guess. "Let's get out of here."

"Alright, fine, we saw Ross a little while ago but he ran off. We don't know where he went," the one who appeared to be the ringleader said. "We'll just be going now."

"Not so fast," Harvey said. "If you've done anything to him, rest assured that you will all rue the day that you were born."

The pack walked away quickly and nervously. Harvey allowed himself a brief smile— it really was too easy to put idiots in their place sometimes.

Now on to finding Mike— Harvey was excellent at knowing when people were lying or not and he could tell that they had seen Mike. But as to whether or not they had done something to him, he couldn't tell. He looked over at the house that Mike had given him the address to and headed in that direction, deciding that that was the next place to search. It was odd that Mike had given him such a specific address so that must mean that he was close by.

He walked up the front walk towards the front door, feeling a bit stupid. It was past midnight, after all, and he was about to knock on a stranger's front door and tell them that he had somehow lost a 14-year-old boy at their house. As he raised his fist to pound on the door, he thought he saw a flash of movement to his left and he glanced over to see something move in the tree that stood tall and proud next to the house. He assumed it had just been a squirrel or a neighborhood cat or something until it happened again and Harvey realized suddenly that it looked an awful lot like a leg.

Harvey frowned uncertainly before lowering his arm, which had still been poised to knock and walked over to the tree tentatively. He knew that this was ridiculous, that the chances of Mike sitting in the tree were ridiculously slim but he couldn't help but hope that it was somehow true. Crossing his fingers that a feral cat wasn't about to leap out of the tree and maul him, he approached the lowest branches and squinted to try and make out what was going on.

"Mike?" He posed the question to the night air, hardly daring to hope that Mike really could be there.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice said cautiously from somewhere above Harvey's head. Harvey glanced up and squinted— he had been right, it had been Mike's leg moving before. He was sitting on a branch a few feet above Harvey and swinging his legs idly. Harvey felt a strong surge of relief course through him but it was then cancelled out by the surge of concern that flowed through him as he realized that Mike was pretty high up and that the old tree's branches didn't seem too stable.

All of a sudden there was a whooshing noise and Mike dropped to the ground next to him. Harvey drew in a sharp breath of concern against his own volition. Mike, who had jumped and landed in a crouching position, popped back up to his feet nonchalantly.

"Jesus, Mike," Harvey exhaled shakily in relief. "You couldn't have just climbed down like a normal person? Easy there, catwoman." He found himself simultaneously seized by the urge to grab Mike by the shoulders and shake him or to pull him closer and feel his arms and legs to check if any bones were broken.

"Harvey? How did you get here so quickly?" Mike asked, sounding bewildered. Harvey felt a flash of fear flood his body at Mike's confusion— had he gotten a concussion from being beaten up by those idiots? Was he disoriented because of a head injury? Is that why he had wandered over to this random house and this random tree?

Harvey gently grabbed Mike by the shoulders and steered him to the side where a dim ray of light from the street lamp illuminated Mike's face. He carefully told hold of Mike's chin and tried to look in his eyes to see if his pupils were evenly dilated and check for any bumps or bruises but it was too dark to see properly and Mike just pulled away anyway.

"Harvey— what are you doing?" Mike asked again. "I'm fine."

"Well then what the hell was that dropped call all about? And the hiding in a tree? Did those assholes beat you up?" Harvey said, and he was aware of the fact that he was talking much too loudly and sharply but he was still shaken up.

"What? No, that dropped call was literally a _dropped call. _I dropped my phone when I was climbing the tree," Mike said, dropping to his knees and feeling around the grass for a minute before coming up triumphantly with his phone. "See? Those guys were chasing me and so I ran and hid up in the tree and called you to come get me. But I didn't know where they were so I had to whisper. You're overreacting right now. How did you get here so fast? Were you already out with a client or something?"

"No," Harvey said. "I was already out looking for you."

"Why? I just went for a walk," Mike said sullenly. "It's not like you normally care where I'm at and what I'm doing nowadays."

"Jesus, Mike— I was out here looking for you because it's almost one in the morning and it's freezing out and you just got over having pneumonia and then you completely disappeared—" Harvey realized that his hands were trembling slightly and he drew in a calming breath. "What, did you really think I wouldn't come after you?"

"I didn't even think you'd notice I'd gone. And I left a note!" Mike said defensively. Harvey suddenly noticed that Mike was shivering, his arms wrapped around his torso. His teeth were chattering too. He frowned— how long had Mike been out here in the cold?

He shrugged out of his own jacket, grateful that he had taken the time to put on a warm sweatshirt instead of just ripping off his suit and running out the door.

"Here," he said gruffly, passing his coat over to Mike. He pulled off his gloves and passed those over too.

Mike shook his head stubbornly. "It's cold out, Harvey. Keep your jacket."

"Put it on, Mike. It's my fault that you're out here wandering around in the first place. Come on, I don't want you getting sick again," Harvey said in a tone that booked no argument. Mike shrugged and managed to pull Harvey's jacket on over the one he was already wearing, letting out a slight sigh of bliss and burrowing into the extra warmth.

"Your note didn't say when you'd left, where you were going, or when you were coming back, Mike," Harvey continued patiently.

"Oh, so _now_ you care about where I'm at and what I'm doing?" Mike muttered bitterly under his breath but Harvey caught it and winced. He deserved that.

"Alright, you and I need to have a talk. I owe you some explanations. Come on, let's go someplace warmer," Harvey said, guiding Mike over to the car. He took it as a good sign that Mike wasn't shouting at him or trying to run away again— maybe he _could _fix this. "Where are we right now, anyway? This seems like an awfully specific place to have run and hid."

He was unprepared for the vulnerable look that danced across Mike's features in the dim moonlight. This place meant something to Mike, all right. And judging by his current expression of deep sorrow, it meant something from his childhood.

"This was my house," Mike said, his voice small. "Before my parents…" he trailed off. "I used to climb up into that tree whenever I was sad or I was in trouble. When those guys were chasing me, well, I dunno, it just seemed instinctual to come back here. Trying to hold onto old memories of safety, I guess," Mike explained, buckling his seatbelt and turning to stare out the window. Harvey felt guilt twist through his stomach over the fact that his actions had inadvertently driven Mike back here to this place of bittersweet ancient memories.

"Why were those assholes even chasing you in the first place?" Harvey asked as he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Donna to let her know that he had found Mike. Harvey blanched at her quick response— _'Good, now fix this. If Mike still looks like a kicked puppy the next time I see him, I __**will **__castrate you. Just giving you fair warning.' _

"The answer to that is in the question. They're assholes. They chase people," Mike said casually. Harvey frowned at him pointedly.

"Okay, some of them might not exactly like me," Mike said.

"Good, now we're getting closer to the truth," Harvey said.

"I might have insulted one of them. Or all 5 of them," Mike said honestly. "What? They're assholes and they make fun of me all the time at school. I was angry and I wanted to fight— that's why I went for a walk in the first place."

And now they had come full circle. Harvey was too cowardly to bring up the topic of the fact that he had missed Mike's speech— there were other things he needed to explain first. So they drove in silence for awhile, Mike still staring solemnly out the window. Harvey pulled into the parking lot of the diner they had gone to after the Trevor incident. He figured it was as good a place as any to discuss the events of the past week— it was warm and had food (Mike looked like he hadn't eaten properly for a week) and it was a far more neutral ground than the apartment.

Mike followed Harvey into the diner without any comment and flung himself into a slouching position in their booth, looking every bit the sullen teenager. A waitress came by and took their order cheerfully and tried to make small talk but Harvey quickly sent her on her way. He sat silently for a moment wondering how to begin this talk.

"Mike," he began. "I know that I upset you but it was never my intention to hurt you; you have to understand that."

To his surprise, Mike's mask dropped at this and he bit his lip and looked away frantically, his face crumpling slightly. "It's okay, Harvey. I understand," he said, his breath hitching quietly. "I just wish you'd tell me what I did wrong," he said, blinking furiously and struggling to maintain his composure around the older man. For some reason Harvey had managed get under his skin and dig past all the walls and defenses that Mike had so carefully built up. Clearly it had been a mistake to let him do that. "You didn't even give me a chance to fix whatever it was that I did."

Harvey first looked bewildered at this before an appalled look dawned on his features. "You think this is _your _fault? That you did something to cause this?"

"Well what the hell am I supposed to think, Harvey?!" Mike exclaimed, his voice suddenly far too loud. Fortunately the diner wasn't crowded but a few onlookers glanced up from their meals and over nervously. Mike drew in a deep calming breath. "You do this whole buddy-buddy thing for 2 months and then all of sudden you decide to just drop me like I'm a piece of garbage by the side of the road? What was I supposed to think? You took care of me when I was sick, you bought me a jacket out of your own pocket. I thought we were getting along really well— and I _never _think that about adults. And then I did something and I fucked it all up. Because now you won't talk to me and I don't know what I did." Mike's voice got quieter as he ranted and his expression was one of absolute heartbreak. It made Harvey's chest ache— what had he done to this kid?

"Listen, Mike, that's not how it is at all—" Harvey tried to explain.

"That's not how it is at all, huh? Did you ever even care in the first place? Was it all just an act for the past 2 months? You were probably sitting in your office every day having a good laugh about _poor gullible orphan Mike_ who actually thinks he's worthy of Harvey Specter's time and attention," Mike laughed but it was clear from his tone that he didn't find it very funny. "You know what the sad thing is— I actually thought that you cared a little. I really believed it, Harvey," Mike said, chuckling in slightly hysterical disbelief, his blue eyes overly bright and slightly watery. "Pathetic," he said self-deprecatingly, quickly swiping at his eyes.

"Mike," Harvey said calmly. "I know that you're upset and confused and angry right now, and you have every right to be—" Mike looked ready to launch into a new soliloquy so Harvey held up his hand in gesture of placation. "All I'm asking is that you give me a few minutes to explain, okay?"

Mike looked like he was seriously considering telling Harvey to go take a long walk off a short pier. "All right, fine," he sighed finally, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. Harvey felt relief course through him— at least Mike wasn't shouting or throwing things.

"It all began about a week ago when Travis Tanner called," Harvey recounted. Mike looked interested in the fact that Tanner was somehow involved in whatever was going on with his guardian. He sat forward a little bit and got that familiar look in his eyes that Harvey had noticed he always had when processing new information.

"Tanner threatened you with me and my custody, didn't he?" Mike deduced immediately. Harvey raised an eyebrow. The kid was too quick for his own good. He had originally planned not to include Tanner's threats in the version of the story he told Mike, but at this point he figured that honesty was the best policy especially since Mike had cottoned on so quickly.

"Well…yes," Harvey said. Mike paled slightly at this but nodded for Harvey to continue. "Basically he offered a settlement— it was a joke; calling it a settlement is being kind, really— and he implied that if your Grammy didn't take the deal he would call CPS and express his concerns about your custody."

"So what did you say to that?" Mike asked. The waitress returned with Harvey's coffee and toast and a stack of pancakes for Mike, who pushed them away, still too upset and confused to eat.

"I told him he could shove his deal up his ass," Harvey smirked. "Mike, we've talked about this before— don't worry about the custody issue. I'd slaughter Tanner in family court." He had meant for this to be reassuring but Mike just looked even more crestfallen than before somehow.

"So I did do something wrong then," Mike said morosely.

"What are you talking about?" Harvey asked.

"I thought that the reason you were ignoring me had something to do with Tanner's threats. But you just said that it wasn't a big deal— which means it's not Tanner's fault that you've been avoiding me; it's mine," Mike said. Harvey shook his head at this complicated logic.

"Mike, the reason I pushed you away is because…well, Tanner was trying to use you to get to me. And other people will do the same to you in the future if this—" he gestured between Mike and him "— continues."

"So what?" Mike asked, frowning. "Go on; let them try to get to me. I don't see why that's supposed to be such a big deal— you'd never let them get past you anyway." This was said with such utter and instant certainty that it made Harvey's chest ache. Mike had so much blind faith in him and Donna was right…it _was_ utterly terrifying having someone trust him and depend on him like this.

"You're right; I wouldn't," Harvey said quietly. This was the first undeniable admission of caring he had made in years and he couldn't deny that it felt good to see the slight smile playing on Mike's lips at this. "But that's beside the point, Mike. The _point _is that you deserve better than being used like that and I can't put you in that position in good conscience. And you deserve a better role model than someone who works 70 or 80 hours a week and has a completely unfulfilling personal life. I can't teach you how to do anything besides manipulate people to get the best deal possible out of them, Mike."

"Oh, come on. You don't have a completely unfulfilling personal life…you have me, after all. We do cultural, scholarly activities together all the time— I've learned loads from being around you! Like that time we watched that _Planet Earth _marathon; that was enriching, right? Or one time we drove by a museum and considered going in to look around…that was…fulfilling. And you taught me how to throw a football better and now the jocks don't tease me as much in gym class. Not to mention the fact that you've been learning how to cook a bit the past few months— see, you've got much more going on than work," Mike said reassuringly, patting Harvey on the arm.

"Thanks, Mike," Harvey said wryly. "I'm glad that I taught you so much when I sat next to you on the couch and watched _Planet Earth _with you."

"So, you're trying to pass me off on someone else because you're tired of trying to fit me in between work and seducing women?" Mike said this in a joking tone but he was biting his lip anxiously.

"No, I was trying to push you away so that you'd find someone more appropriate to attach to— someone who has the time to look after you that you deserve. Someone who actually knows what they're doing and will keep you from getting involved in drug deals or getting pneumonia," Harvey said.

"What, so I don't get any say in the matter of who my own role model is? And that's completely illogical, Harvey!" Mike exclaimed, stabbing his stack of pancakes in frustration. "Because none of those things had anything to do with you! Correlation isn't causation, you know."

Harvey sighed. "It was a mistake. I was being stupid," he said. Mike's eyes went impossibly wide at the fact that Harvey had just called himself stupid.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Mike asked cautiously.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Mike, look…I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have just pushed you away like that. It's just that I'm not very good at letting other people into my life…which should be abundantly clear to you by now."

"So…you're really saying that none of this is my fault? And you're _apologizing_?" Mike said in a tone that implied that he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

Harvey nodded and Mike looked slightly thunderstruck. "Has Donna been experimenting with brainwashing techniques on you? What's next, a song and dance routine about your deep-seated secret feelings for Louis?"

"What, like the song and dance routine you've probably made up for Rachel?" Harvey snorted. Mike blushed slightly. "Look, I meant what I said, Mike. I thought I was doing what was best for you at the time and I can see now that I was wrong."

"You were wrong? Could you wait a second while I get a dictaphone and record you saying that one more time?" Mike said cheekily before sobering. "I still don't understand your logic but I do get that you weren't really trying to make me miserable. Couldn't you have just talked to me about what was going on instead, though? And did you really have to miss the speech competition? You _promised _you'd be there_, _Harvey," Mike said firmly, apparently bravely determined to at least take a stand on this issue. "You say that you want me to trust you and come to you when I land myself in trouble— well, that's hard when I can't trust you to fulfill simple promises like sitting and listening to me talk for five minutes."

"I'm sorry," Harvey said, because there wasn't much else he could say. "I can't make any excuse for that— I totally forgot about the whole thing. And you're right— I broke your trust. But I'll try to make it up to you in any way possible. Congratulations on getting first, by the way. Your grandmother will be proud, I'm sure. That's very impressive," Harvey said, not quite capable of saying the direct words _I'm proud of you._

Mike appeared to be taking this all in. "So what do we do now? Just start over where we left off again?" Mike asked. He had just polished off his previously untouched pancakes in a matter of moments, his ravenous appetite having returned quickly now that he and Harvey had talked it out.

"Sounds good to me," Harvey said. "If you're willing to give me another chance, that is."

Mike nodded ambivalently, still seeming somewhat hesitant but overall willing to forgive. Harvey marveled at how easygoing the kid was and then he came to the grim realization that it was probably because he had been mistreated in the past and didn't know any better than to continue desperately seeking Harvey's approval. But Harvey swore to himself that he'd make this up to Mike somehow and that he wouldn't let this happen again. Christmas was coming up soon, after all. He'd have to sit down later and file through all of the random tidbits of information that Mike had told him during his late-night ramblings and decide what to get the kid. At this point it needed to be something pretty big to make up for what an ass he had been recently. Did fourteen-year-olds still want ponies for Christmas?

Mike was now gazing longingly at the toast that Harvey had ordered for himself but hadn't touched. He pushed the plate towards Mike, who took it and began scarfing it down immediately. Harvey rolled his eyes at this display of teenage barbarianism but didn't say anything— the kid needed the calories.

When Mike finished another two servings of toast, Harvey paid and they were about to leave when the manager, David, came over.

"Harvey! As always, it's good to see you," he said merrily, pumping Harvey's hand in greeting. Both Mike and Harvey blinked at him slightly blearily. It was too late in the night for this kind of cheeriness.

"Hello, David," Harvey said politely.

"Ahh, I see you've brought your cousin back…Mike, was it? You two must be very close for Harvey to bring you here twice. That's wonderful— it's good to be close to your family," David said, smiling at them benignly.

"Yeah, he causes a lot of trouble," Harvey said, slinging an arm around Mike's shoulder and ruffling the kid's hair. It was wildly out of character for him to be physically affectionate, and especially in public, but Mike deserved it after the week he'd had. "But I think I'll keep him around." Mike beamed shyly at this and they bid David farewell and returned to the apartment.

When they got inside, Mike collapsed wearily on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. "I've ruined my best pair of jeans," he said mournfully, indicating a rip in the knee from where he had tripped while running away from the kids from school.

"That's really not saying much. Those were a good wash away from completely disintegrating," Harvey said, before frowning upon realizing that Mike's knee was a mess of dried blood. He went to the bathroom to fetch the first aid supplies. "And we can buy new jeans, Mike," Harvey said, an unspoken _but we can't buy a new Mike _lingering in his mind.

"Foot up," he instructed.

"Harvey, it's fine. It doesn't even hurt," Mike whined tiredly.

"I don't think you'll be saying that it's fine and it doesn't hurt when you're dying from blood poisoning in the hospital," Harvey said firmly.

"And you say I'm the dramatic one," Mike huffed but he dutifully put his leg up. Harvey struggled to ignore the urge to smile at Mike's humor. He had missed this the past week.

He wiped off Mike's knee and quickly bandaged it— fortunately the wound was relatively shallow and it seemed clean. Mike looked about a second away from falling asleep on the couch.

"Oh no, you don't," Harvey warned, disappearing into the office to turn down the sheets on Mike's bed and pull out a pair of pajamas. "I don't want to listen to you whine tomorrow when you've got a sore neck." The discarded speech trophy caught his eye and he grabbed it off the bedside table and brought it out to the living room.

"This belongs here, I think," Harvey said, crossing to the mantle and placing the large, shiny trophy in a place of honor where it could easily be seen from most any vantage point in the apartment.

Mike grinned and flushed with pride. He staggered to his feet, looking exhausted but happy. "Thanks, Harvey," he said. "Are we cool?"

"Yeah, Mike," he said. "We're cool."

Mike plodded off to bed then and Harvey sat on the couch looking over papers for awhile, listening to the comforting domestic sounds of Mike snoring in the background. After awhile he felt his eyelids beginning to droop and he headed to bed himself. Oddly enough, his mattress seemed to have magically fixed itself because he got the best night's sleep that he had had in a week.

* * *

**So there's that! I was tempted to do something really terrible to Mike to make Harvey feel even worse but I restrained myself (this time, anyway muahaha). If you can guess what epic movie I stole Donna's chest poke and the line "that's going to bruise" from, I will…do nothing because I can't really do anything since this is online lol. But I'll give you a virtual high five for having great taste in movies XD Next time… Christmas! I'll suppose I'll have to listen to some Christmas music to get into the mood to write about it….my roommates will probably think I'm crazy but oh well :D **


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry, guys— I know it's been awhile since I've updated. I don't really have a good excuse besides being super busy with school…so I apologize and thank you for bearing with me *ducks behind a rock and tentatively waves a white flag and extends fluffy, super-lengthy Christmas chapter as a peace offering* XD Also I had no clue how to write Harvey's brother and I'm terrible at gift giving/thinking of gift ideas, so I'm sorry. And I have no clue how speech competitions work and I don't know how to write speeches, so I took some liberties with that too. Oops.**

**Disclaimer: still don't own any of it D:  
**

_And you ask me what I want this year_

_And I try to make this kind and clear_

_Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days_

_`Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings_

_And designer love and empty things_

_Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days._

_From "Better Days" by the Goo Goo Dolls_

The next day Harvey talked to his three clients and fulfilled his legal obligation to present Tanner's shitty offer of $200,000 to them. Much as he had hoped, all three of them agreed to reject it. And so it was later that weekend on Sunday night that he found himself dialing Tanner's number and struggling to find a place to talk where he could be heard over the raucous chaos happening in his apartment at the moment.

In a Donna-sanctioned attempt to make up for some of the damage he had caused the week prior— Mike still seemed a little confused and hurt over the whole ordeal (and rightfully so, in Harvey's opinion) — Harvey (firmly ignoring the little voice in his head that was shouting "bribery!") had given his credit card to Donna and Mike and the two of them had gone shopping that afternoon for a Christmas tree and decorations. It had paid off and Mike was in high spirits because apparently he and Edith had only had a small fake tree the past few years and this was his first live one for a long time. He and Donna were currently trimming the tree and boisterously singing along to Christmas carols on the radio. Harvey had even allowed himself to get dragged into some of the decorating— he drew the line at the singing though, and he refused to cut out paper snowflakes because he knew he'd be finding the tiny scraps from them in the couch for months afterwards. But he had passed Donna and Mike some ornaments and figured out how to untangle the strands of lights, which was downright cheery by Harvey Specter standards.

Mike and Donna were now singing an extremely passionate version of 'All I Want for Christmas Is You'— Harvey suspected that Donna was going to wind up having to spend the night and sleep on the couch. She had indulged in a couple of glasses of wine and had alarmed both Mike and Harvey earlier by singing a very tearful rendition of 'The Christmas Shoes.' Then she had attempted to get Harvey to tango with her to 'Feliz Navidad' and had seemed genuinely confused when he hadn't immediately agreed to this brilliant idea.

Harvey dialed and listened for a few rings, wincing as Donna tipsily began to toss paper snowflakes all over the room as she sang along to 'Let it Snow'.

"Travis Tanner speaking," Tanner's voice said coolly over the line and Harvey quickly ducked into his bedroom so that he could hear better (and to avoid the tinsel that Mike was trying to throw in his hair).

"I presented your offer to my clients and they all rejected it immediately. We're taking this thing to trial, Tanner," Harvey said without preamble.

"You're making a mistake, Harvey," Tanner sneered. "You'll pay for this, in more ways than one," he threatened implicitly, and Harvey knew that he was referring to Mike. "You know you're not going to win this. Not without proof that McKinnon had prior knowledge of the poor working conditions— and you still don't have the alleged reports as evidence."

"No, I don't— yet," Harvey said confidently. He had listened to Tanner once with disastrous consequences. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. "I'm going to find those reports Tanner. And then I'm going to kick your ass in court. I'm done with your pansy threats— bring it, Tanner. I'll be waiting with those reports on January 15th." He hung up then, wishing that he had made the call on a landline so that he could slam the phone back onto the receiver with appropriate theatricality.

He smirked to himself as he listened to Mike and Donna in the other room. He had no clue how he was going to track down those reports. _But I'll get it done, _he promised himself as he listened to Mike's laughter drift through the apartment. And come January 15th, Tanner wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Mike was freaking out a little bit. It was already December 23rd and he _still_ didn't have a gift for Harvey. He had already scraped together all of his money and bought Grammy a sweater, Donna a small plant for her desk, and Rachel a coupon to her favorite restaurant, but Harvey… well, he only had 13 dollars left and he was pretty certain that Harvey would laugh at him if he tried to give the older man a gift that had cost anything less than a small lake house. And he _really _wanted to get Harvey something amazing to show the older man how grateful he was for all that he had done for him the past 2 months. Despite the weirdness of the past few weeks, Harvey was still the only person besides Grammy who had taken an interest in his life. And now that the whole Harvey-pulling-a-mute-trick ordeal was over, Harvey seemed to be trying really hard to make things up to Mike and well… it kind of seemed like Harvey was settling in for the long run. Mike hardly dared to even think it, but he got the impression that Harvey was planning on sticking around in Mike's life after the trial was over and Grammy was all better. And if that was true then it would be the best Christmas gift ever, quite honestly. It was what had instantly popped into his head when Grammy had asked him what he wanted for Christmas. He had lamely responded that he wanted some new socks, not quite meeting her gaze, but he knew that she had been able to read his face because she had just smiled knowingly and said that she was pretty sure that he would get what he wanted for Christmas this year.

Still, he had no clue what to do about Harvey. He tried to think of things that he could sell to get enough money to buy Harvey something appropriately Harvey-ish but the only ideas he could come up with were drugs (_not _his first choice) and his first-born child (and maybe his second and third as well if he really wanted to go all out with this present). He was sitting and pondering this Great Gift Dilemma in Harvey's office one morning (school had let out for winter break and Mike was already bored of hanging out alone at the apartment— he had turned on the puppy eyes and Harvey had reluctantly agreed to let him come to the office for the whole day) and looking over a file when the door opened. He looked up briefly, expecting Donna, and then did a double-take when he saw that it was a strange man instead. The newcomer crossed over to stand behind where Harvey was at the window and tossing and catching one of his baseballs, obviously deep in thought.

"Mike," Harvey said suddenly. "Do you remember what section 11C of the Philips bylaws was?"

Mike opened his mouth, uncertain as to whether he was going to warn Harvey that a strange man was standing right behind him or recite the bylaw. The decision was taken out of his hands however, as the stranger spoke up.

"Easy, there, Peter Francis Geraci," the man said, and there was something familiar in his voice that Mike couldn't quite place. He watched with wide eyes as the man suddenly flung his arms around Harvey from behind in a weird sort of half-tackle, half-hug. He then crossed even further into Harvey's personal bubble by reaching out and _ruffling Harvey's hair. _Mike thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head and he winced, waiting for Harvey to turn around and punch whoever this guy was in the face.

Instead Harvey just turned around, twisting out of the other man's grip. He looked momentarily startled before his eyes crinkled in a half-smile. He then threw an arm around the other man, drew him into a headlock, and bestowed a merciless noogie on him.

Mike was still just sitting there, blinking dumbly, when Donna entered the office.

"_Donna," _he hissed. "Should we…I dunno…do something?" he asked, nonplussed, as Harvey and the man continued to half-wrestle.

Donna just smiled at him knowingly. "Paul Oliver Specter!" She said sharply, grabbing the other man by the ear and dragging him away from Harvey.

The man— Paul— grinned rakishly at Donna. "You're pretty when you're angry," he said, and there was something very familiar in that charming smile. Then it dawned on Mike— had Donna said Paul _Specter?_

"Thanks, but you know that I don't appreciate limitations being placed on my beauty," Donna said aloofly. She glared at Paul for a brief moment before both of them burst out laughing and quickly embraced, exchanging pleasantries.

"Paul," Harvey acknowledged, once there was a lull in Donna and Paul's greetings to one another.

"Harvey, my dear brother," Paul declared, pulling Harvey into a brotherly hug and greeting him properly.

"How many times have I told you not to wear this filth in my office, little brother?" Harvey asked in disgusted exasperation. Mike frowned— Paul was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt (which was the exact same thing that Mike was wearing). Paul just grinned at this, however.

"You're just jealous that you're on the losing side, big brother," Paul said confidently, and Mike realized that Paul was wearing a White Sox t-shirt.

Harvey made a rude hand gesture in Paul's direction before turning to Mike. "Mike, this is my much less attractive little brother Paul."

Paul stepped forward and cheerfully shook hands with Mike, who shyly returned the 24-year-old's smile.

"And by less attractive he really means 'more ruggedly good-looking'…and did I mention taller?" Paul said, grinning as he quickly measured the top of his head from the top of Harvey's— it was true; Paul was the slightly taller of the two.

Harvey scowled. "Yes, well, Paul is here with us for the holiday because his girlfriend Alicia decided she'd had enough of him and that she didn't want to have to look at him all Christmas— that face is a real mood-ruiner; he gets it from our mother's side of the family."

Paul just laughed at this and bumped his shoulder against Harvey's. "Yeah, it's good to see you too, Harv. Now what's say we get out of here before that Louis guy shows up?" Paul said, peering around the office concernedly as though Louis might suddenly pop out from between a couple of records on the shelf.

"Are you genuinely afraid of Louis?" Harvey asked derisively.

"Harvey, surely you remember what happened last time I was here," Paul said shiftily, still looking nervous.

"Oh," Harvey said, seemingly struck by a memory. "Right. We should go. Come on, Mike."

"Er— you guys go on ahead. I need to ask Donna something. I'll hitch a ride back to the apartment with her," Mike said. He was curious as to why Paul was afraid of Louis but he needed help figuring out what the hell to get Harvey as a gift.

Harvey studied Mike's face for a moment before shrugging. "Alright— but don't be too late, I'm going to order us a pizza. Okay?"

Harvey and Paul left then, still bantering and bickering like an old married couple. Mike went up to Donna's desk. "Donna," he said. "I need help. What should I get Harvey for Christmas?"

Donna smiled and thought for a moment. "Alright, Mike. Here's what you should do…"

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Mike was so nervous about Harvey's gift that he had had a hard time sleeping and consequently was up at 6 in the morning. He paced around in his room for awhile before deciding that he was going to go crazy if he just sat around and continued to over think this whole deal, not to mention the fact that his stomach was rumbling angrily. So he crept out into the hallway and snuck over to the kitchen, trying to be mindful of Paul, who was currently snoring happily on the couch.

He had just stepped foot in the kitchen when Harvey's voice came drifting over to him from near the stove. "Too excited about Santa coming to sleep?" Mike jumped about a foot in the air and knocked a plastic cup off the counter. It clanged loudly on the floor and they both held their breaths, listening for Paul, who just gave a particularly loud snore and mumbled a bit in his sleep.

"Jesus, Harvey, don't _do _that," Mike hissed, crossing over to the stove where they could talk a little louder without waking Paul. "And I didn't get up because I was excited about Christmas," he said defensively, crossing his arms across his chest and trying not to pout.

Harvey raised an eyebrow dubiously and Mike fought the urge to blush. "Sure, kid. I'll bet you were a fierce believer in Santa as a child," Harvey smirked.

Mike adopted a crestfallen expression. "Wait…are you saying that Santa's not real?!"

He managed to say it with such genuine shock and bereavement that Harvey looked up from whatever food he was making, momentarily alarmed. When he saw that Mike was joking he smacked him lightly in the arm with a spatula.

"What are you doing, anyway?" Mike asked, bewildered. It was rare to see Harvey cooking anything in the morning, and even rarer for him to be doing it still in pajamas and with his hair unstyled and his face scruffy.

"Making pancakes," Harvey sighed, shaking his head ruefully. "Or, rather, I _was _making pancakes. Something's gone wrong, as usual."

"You really are terrible at cooking," Mike said in fond amusement, shaking his head. "Do other people know about this? The Great Harvey Specter, can't even make a batch of pancakes." He glanced in the bowl that Harvey had mixed and stared in amazement at the lumpy orangeish pancake mix.

"Hey, watch it, kid—" Harvey said, pulling some frozen waffles out of the freezer. "There's still time for Santa to redact your presents from under the tree," he said patronizingly.

Mike scowled at the Santa joke before realizing what Harvey had said. "Hey, did you say presents? I've really got presents?"

Harvey stared at him as though he had just sprouted another head before pulling out his phone and scrolling to the calendar. "See this, Mike? This is a calendar. Do you know how to tell what day it is?"

"Don't be an ass," Mike said. "Are you serious, though? I have presents? As in more than one present?" He had been expecting a gift from Grammy and maybe Harvey but he hadn't been sure— and they weren't seeing Grammy til this afternoon so did that mean that Harvey had bought him multiple things?

"That's what the plural form of the word 'present' would generally indicate, Mike," Harvey said. "Go on, go see for yourself."

Mike shrugged and crept back into the den where he stood and stared at the tree in awe, suddenly feeling like a 5-year-old kid again. It looked like something from a beautiful storybook in the dim dawn glow drifting in through the windows, the lights twinkling gently and everything gleaming. He felt his face break out in a big, childish grin. He had forgotten what it was like to spend a Christmas not tiptoeing around tragedy.

He sidled closer to get a good look at the presents under the tree and was amazed to see that there were four or five for him under there and that strangely enough, one of them was from Paul. Mike felt bad that he hadn't bought the man anything, but he hadn't known that he was coming and he hadn't known that Paul was going to buy him anything.

And there were three from Harvey that he could see! He was thrilled that Harvey had bought him _three _things but also tempted to burst into tears and run away— he had barely even gotten Harvey one decent thing— the older man was going to think that he was so ungrateful.

Mike was beginning to work himself up into a proper state of gift-related anxiety when Harvey emerged from the kitchen, a half-grin on his face, clearly anticipating seeing Mike's face light up when he saw the tree and the presents. He looked surprised to see Mike just standing there and looking like his puppy had been hit by a car.

He beckoned Mike over and looked like he was debating whether or not he should press Mike to find out what was going on.

"Breakfast is ready," he said instead, passing Mike a plate of waffles and some toast and juice.

Mike accepted the plate and began eating silently, mournfully stabbing his waffles and shoveling them into his mouth. They ate in silence for a few moments until Harvey seemed unable to bear it any longer.

"All right, out with it!" He decreed. "What's going on with you?"

Mike attempted to school his features into some semblance of an expression of Christmas cheer but he could tell that he was failing miserably because Harvey looked concerned.

"Nothing, Harvey. I'm fine," he said tightly. He knew it was stupid to be upset about this but he just really wanted Harvey to approve of him and to know how much Mike appreciated him. And he had messed it up, as usual.

"Don't be ridiculous. Has anyone ever told you that you have the worst poker face ever? I can feel your hormone-induced heightened sense of tragedy rolling off you in waves— are you _sure _your school doesn't have a drama club? Come on, let's have it. It's Christmas, Mike. The least I can do is try and cheer you up for one day," Harvey said, and he looked so earnest that Mike couldn't help but share.

"OkaysoIwantedtobuyyouareally greatpresentbutthenIranoutof money—"

Harvey quickly raised his hand to cut Mike off. "Wow. Okay, wow. Slow down and try that again. Whatever it is, it's okay, alright?" He said reassuringly. Mike took a deep breath.

"Okay, so I wanted to buy you a really great Christmas present but then I ran out of money because I didn't have very much to start with and I didn't know what I wanted to get you so I saved you for last and so then by the time I got around to buying you something I was almost all out of money and you bought me three presents and I'm sure they're really great presents and the one I wound up getting you is so dumb and you're going to hate it and I just wanted to get you a really good gift to thank you for the past two months but I messed up," Mike rambled, staring fixedly at the crust of his toast and feeling like a total failure.

He felt Harvey's hand come up and gently lift Mike's chin so that he was looking at Harvey and it was a testament to how much he had come to trust his guardian that he didn't automatically flinch away.

"Just as I suspected— heightened sense of tragedy," Harvey said, but he said it so nicely that Mike didn't care. "Why don't you let me be the judge of how good your gift is? I'm sure it's fine. Come on, why don't you go get it and I'll open it now, okay?"

Mike shrugged miserably. "I guess. Why not get it over with now before Paul wakes up and has to watch me fail at gift-giving too, right?"

Harvey shook his head but his eyes were crinkled at the corners in a slight, gentle smile. "I really don't understand what goes on in that big head of yours sometimes, kid. But it'll be fine. Go get the gift, okay?"

Mike nodded. Harvey dropped his grip on Mike's chin and Mike slipped into the office and grabbed the small parcel he had wrapped for Harvey out from under his bed.

Heart pounding furiously, Mike returned to the kitchen and wordlessly passed Harvey the present.

He took it and opened the envelope with the card in it. Mike began pacing anxiously as Harvey read. He tried to think of something, _anything, _to distract himself but his hyper-intelligent brain was failing him and was broadcasting the words that he had written to Harvey through his mind like a teleprompter. Damn his perfect recall! He couldn't help but know exactly what he had written and exactly what Harvey was reading right now. Donna's advice to him had been to just go for something meaningful and not worry about money, and this was about the most meaningful thing Mike could think of.

The less embarrassing part was the card— it was simple and it just said "_To Harvey. Thanks for everything— someday I'll find a way to pay you back. – Mike." _Then came the real humiliation— the sheet of paper and the package. Harvey had just picked up the paper that had been tucked into the card and _oh god, Harvey_ _was beginning to read it and why had he thought it was a good idea to give Harvey this paper again_? Mike's brain automatically began reading along, and he knew he remembered it word for word even though he couldn't actually see the paper.

He knew, for example, that the top of the paper said _New York High School Speech Association 2007 _and that under the heading there was a set of directions that read: _The prompt for your personal identity speech is to describe a challenge or event that you have had to overcome in your life. How did you do it?_

He knew that his speech was there, written out word for word in his untidy scrawl. Normally he played his speeches by ear but this was such a loaded topic for him that he had written it down on the note sheet and then given it from memory. According to the judges and the audience who had applauded robustly, it had been a good speech— good enough to merit first place. But their opinions didn't really matter all that much to him— Harvey's on the other hand— well, this mattered.

And so as he watched Harvey's gaze flicker over the page, his mind couldn't help but supply the words that Harvey was reading.

_No one ever expects for his or her family to suddenly be rent apart. Sure, we may think about it fleetingly from time to time— when it's storming out and Mom went to the store and hasn't come back yet we might wonder for a fleeting second if she's been in a car crash before laughing at how dramatic we're being. And then she comes home five minutes later so it's all okay and forgotten. _

_ In my case, my mom didn't come home. Nor did my dad. And I almost didn't either. There was a car accident— broken glass everywhere, my mom's voice growing weaker and weaker before stopping—and nothing would ever be the same after that night in upstate New York. I was sent into foster care for 4 months. That didn't go so well. _

_Then I was sent to live with my grandmother, and things did get better. We had each other and she loved me and took the best care of me as she could— she became my whole family. She didn't ask for her eleven-year-old genius grandson to become her full-time responsibility. But she took me in with grace and love and unfailing kindness. And life slowly got easier— I stopped crying myself to sleep every night and Grammy stopped getting that sad expression on her face when she thought I wasn't looking. But something was still missing. _

_ I was on a bad path— my only friend was heading down a dark road and I was following close behind him because I had no one else to stop me. And then Grammy fell and broke her hip and everything changed, because my grandmother's attorney, Harvey, agreed to take me in while Grammy was recovering. And when I say "agreed," I mean that my Grammy forced him into it— and he certainly didn't want to at first. Nor did I. But as the weeks passed, I slowly began to trust Harvey. I couldn't help it— he has this aura about him. He has high expectations for me and he holds me to them. He's honest when other people aren't. He took care of me, at first out of a sense of moral obligation. But lately I think that's changed— he does it because he cares. He takes a genuine interest in my life, helps me when I need it, and he even bought me a new winter jacket even though he didn't have to. _

_ Living with Harvey is hard in a way though because it reminds me of all I've missed out on these past 3 years since my parents died. But it's a good kind of pain. I had built up all of these walls to protect myself from getting hurt again and Harvey came in and knocked them all down. I've found that sometimes we are strongest when we are made most vulnerable by our circumstances and when we let our defenses crumble and other people in. So while I'll never really get over my parents' deaths, I'm back on track again. I won't be a college drop-out or a drug dealer like you might expect from my rough past. Someday I'm going to be the best lawyer the New York has ever seen and I'll make my parents' memories proud. And I'll owe all of that to my grandmother and Harvey Specter. _

* * *

Harvey looked up at Mike after he finished reading, feeling a strange mix of emotions— guilt, primarily, as he imagined Mike giving this speech, keeping his fingers crossed the entire time that Harvey had kept his promise and come to watch him and then realizing after that Harvey hadn't bothered to show up.

"Mike…" he said, his voice coming out a bit strangled for some odd reason. He cleared his throat. "Mike, I'm sorry I wasn't there to hear this."

"I meant it," Mike said seriously, looking nervous. "Every word."

They stared at each other for a moment then and Harvey wondered how to respond to Mike and his terrifying faith and trust in Harvey. He idly began opening the package to give his hands something to do and he pulled out a navy blue skinny tie.

He sighed. "Really?"

Mike smirked. "Oh, come on. We all know that you're jealous of my skinny ties. Even if you don't wear it, you should at least own one."

Harvey rolled his eyes before sobering. "Mike," he said, holding up the speech. "This means a lot to me. It's much better than anything you could have bought." He folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his pocket for safe-keeping.

Mike beamed and opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted when Paul meandered into the kitchen, running his hands through his bed-head.

"Morning," Paul said cheerily, yawning and grabbing a cup of coffee before stopping to look at Mike and Harvey. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, and they both shook their heads in unison, the moment having passed.

"Cool. Merry Christmas," Paul said, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth and taking a bite of Mike's waffles. He then grabbed the skinny tie from Harvey's hands. "Thanks. I didn't bring any nice clothes so I'm going to have to borrow some stuff, Harv. You don't care if I go commando under a pair of your pants, right?"

Harvey stared at his little brother. "Were you raised in a barn?"

"Nope," Paul mumbled through a mouthful of toast crumbs. "But I was raised partially by you after Mom left, so I don't know what that accusation says about your own caretaking abilities. Hey, this is a sweet tie, by the way. You've got a much better fashion sense than I ever thought, Harv. Good job," he continued, thumping Harvey on the back in a congratulatory manner while Mike snickered delightedly in the corner.

Harvey sighed with exasperation. "It's a wonder that you survived to adulthood, much less that you somehow got into grad school. Now I'm going to go shower and this apartment had better still be standing when I come back," Harvey warned. Mike and Paul glanced at each other before bobbing their heads in unison. "Yes, Mom," Paul grinned.

Harvey threw a dish towel at Paul's head and left. "So what _do _you do for your job?" Mike asked curiously. He hadn't spent much time with Paul the past 2 days and he had a lot of unanswered questions. He found it hard to imagine someone related to Harvey doing anything that wasn't related to the law or business, but Paul didn't strike him as the corporate Wall Street type.

Paul smiled. "I'm a musician. I play the saxophone— I don't know if Harvey's told you this, but our dad played saxophone professionally, so I just kind of picked it up from him. Right now I play in a little jazz club most nights to pay the bills, but I'm in graduate school right now to become a music teacher."

"I can see it," Mike acknowledged. And he could— Paul was clearly more of the easygoing, creative type and he seemed to be good with people. "It's weird that you and Harvey are so different," Mike continued, casting Paul a sideways glance. Paul looked serious now and he nodded.

"We _are_ very different, but in some ways we're very similar. It's because Harvey had to grow up really fast when our mom left— he was only 10, after all. Our dad took it really rough and he wasn't himself for a long time after she skipped out on us. So it fell on Harvey to take care of me and watch out for me for a long time. That's a lot of responsibility for an 10-year-old kid, and I was a handful— I didn't fit in at school very well and so Harvey was always having to stand up for me and protect me. He would talk to teachers, principals, and the parents of bullies on my behalf and I think that at some point he just stopped trusting other people and built up this tough exterior of false bravado to hide from how much he was hurting. I give him a lot of crap but the truth is that he's a good brother," Paul said, glancing at Mike. "He takes good care of the people that matter to him."

Mike nodded and they sat there in silence for a few moments, each lost in thought about Harvey, until the man himself appeared from his shower.

"So!" Paul said, clapping his hands together. "Presents, anyone?"

They all adjourned to the living room then and the room descended into a flurry of unwrapping gifts. Harvey had gotten Mike a new pair of jeans to replace the ones he had ripped when he had run away from those kids (picked out by Donna), a rare edition of a law encyclopedia that Mike clutched to his chest like a dying man clutching a medicinal cure, and his own Harvard sweatshirt.

Mike had apologized profusely to Paul for not buying him a present but Paul just shrugged it off and said that he hadn't bought Mike's present so it didn't matter and that it was a present to get to watch Mike open what he had gotten him. Mike nervously opened the gift from Paul only to find a picture of Harvey at about age 18 or 19 with long, flowing honey blond hair.

"Oh god," Mike had said when he finally got his breath back from laughing. "What the hell is this? Harvey, is this really you? Thank you, Paul. You're officially my favorite human being ever."

This resulted in Harvey chasing Paul and Mike around the apartment in an attempt to regain possession of the embarrassing photo until finally Paul triumphantly locked himself in the master bathroom with the picture.

"Have fun spending Christmas in there!" Harvey shouted.

"Nahh, it's fine. I'm just going to shower," Paul said, shrugging it off. Harvey rolled his eyes and returned to the living room where Mike was trying to right the furniture that had been knocked over in the chase.

"Mike, I have one more thing for you. Here," Harvey said, clearing his throat slightly and passing Mike a simple envelope from his pocket.

Mike took it and turned it over, testing its weight in his hand. The back flap had "Merry Christmas, Mike. From Harvey" written in Harvey's familiar elegant script. Mike felt the simple words wash over him warmly and decided to open the envelope carefully so that he could tuck it away and keep it…not for sentimental reasons or anything though, of course. One never knew when they might need a spare envelope, right?

Harvey was looking impatient and he was drumming his fingers on the table, so Mike quickly opened the envelope and carefully pulled out 2 tickets. 2 _plane_ tickets. 2 plane tickets for Washington, D.C.

Mike stared at the tickets in shock as a snippet of a previous conversation flashed through his mind from when he had originally asked Harvey to come to his speech competition a few weeks ago.

_**Flashback**_

_"Yes, I promise. Because I know if I don't then I'll have to deal with Donna kicking my ass over it," Harvey grumbled. "But you do know that I'm just coming to your speech, right? I'm not buying you a car or taking you to Disneyworld. So simmer down a little over there— it's too early for so much unbridled joy."_

_Mike couldn't help but beam anyway. "Thanks, Harvey! This is going to be better than Disneyworld— not that I would know, I've never been. I've never really been anywhere actually— but if I could pick one place to go to I think it'd be Washington D.C. I want to see all the museums and—"_

_"Mike," Harvey cut him off. "Too early still. Keep it down over there."_

_**End Flashback**  
_

The full meaning of the gift crept through his veins slowly, leaving a strange trail of warmth in its wake. _Harvey had been listening to him! _Even when he claimed to be ignoring Mike for his own good, he had still been paying attention to what Mike was saying.

And how many times had people actually done that for him? Most weren't interested in the constant ramblings of a genius kid— his mom had liked it, because she had been firmly of the belief that Mike's mind was a special gift and that her naturally shy son should share his knowledge proudly with others. His dad, on the other hand, had thought that Mike should keep his mouth shut and his head down. All he wanted was for Mike to be out playing sports and getting in trouble for wrestling at recess like a normal boy. And Grammy had always encouraged Mike to share his thoughts because she was a grandmother and she was always on his side.

But Harvey— Harvey was actually really listening to Mike of his own will— he was in no way obligated to be on Mike's side all the time. But he still did it— he retained all the small tidbits that Mike tended to throw out when he was overexcited or overtired.

Not to mention the location— when 10-year-old Mike had once expressed an interest in taking a family vacation to Washington, D.C. to look at all the monuments and museums, his dad had laughed and said that for vacation that year they would be going to Phoenix for spring training as a special treat. Mike had tried to explain politely that he would rather go to D.C. than watch baseball for a week straight, but his dad was having none of it— Mike was going to watch baseball and he was going to like it and that was that. But Harvey hadn't questioned it at all when Mike had offhandedly expressed an interest in the capitol and all of its history. He had just accepted it and done something to make it happen.

Mike looked at the dates that the plane tickets were for and felt like his stomach might explode— it was scheduled for Mike's spring break at school, months away— this was cold, hard proof that Harvey was willing— and perhaps even _wanted— _to spend time with Mike after the trial was over, to travel with him and teach him things. Grammy was right— he had just gotten exactly what he really wanted for Christmas— and a sweet vacation out of the deal as well.

He realized that he had just been standing there and staring blankly at the tickets in dumbfounded amazement and he quickly looked up at Harvey, who was clearly trying to gauge Mike's reaction to this gift. He looked a bit unnerved by Mike's lack of response.

"Harvey," Mike said, struggling to find the words to express his gratitude. "Harvey. I can't accept this— you've done so much for me already. I can't, really," he said, his voice slightly tortured, silently pleading that Harvey would come up with a really good argument for why Mike should accept the tickets because he desperately wanted to go and not feel guilty about Harvey buying him 5 star vacations when he had only bought the older man a tie.

"Don't be ridiculous— this isn't some kind of charity case," Harvey said briskly. "I have a client there who wants me to visit to set up a merger and they have thousands of pages of legalese for me to read through. I'm bringing you along to help me read things. That's all— so don't feel indebted to me; feel indebted to the client, Mr. Gugenheimer."

That was good enough for Mike. He felt a broad grin beginning to break out on his face. And he wasn't sure what made him do it exactly— he hadn't initiated physical contact with a male since before his father died— but he suddenly found himself surging forward and flinging his arms around a rather startled Harvey in an impromptu hug.

* * *

Harvey was taken aback to suddenly find his arms full of teenage boy. When Mike had first leapt forward Harvey had automatically caught him before realizing what was going on. He froze for a second before tentatively returning the embrace, his arms tightening around Mike's thin frame. Mike had his hands clenched in the back of Harvey's shirt and his face buried in Harvey's neck. He kept mumbling "thank you" and Harvey, standing there and hugging Mike, suddenly had a vision of Mike as a much younger child, his life yet untouched by tragedy and filled with hope and affection and unbridled joy like he was right now.

"Alright, it's not that big of a deal, Mike," Harvey said, but he didn't end the embrace. They remained hugging for a moment longer until Mike reluctantly pushed away, grinning up at Harvey.

"_Thank you," _he said emphatically.

Harvey waved it off. "But I expect you to keep your grades up and stay out of trouble for the next few months if you're going to come along on this trip," he said sternly.

Mike saluted. "Sir, yes sir! I'll do anything!" He beamed cheerily.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Go shower and get changed; I told Donna and your grandmother that we'd be at the nursing home in an hour."

Mike bounded off to do just that. Shortly after, Paul emerged from Harvey's bedroom where he had been showering in the master bathroom and stealing clothes. He was wearing Mike's skinny tie and holding a book. The picture was nowhere to be seen and Harvey suspected that he had hidden it somewhere to give back to Mike later.

"Doing a little light reading, Harv?" Paul said, grinning and holding up the book.

Harvey resisted the urge to groan. "Donna bought that book for me, _Pauly," _he said defensively, frowning at the parenting book that Paul was holding at as though it were covered in plague germs. "She insisted I take it so I did— you know Donna. I'm not reading it."

"Mhmm," Paul said, looking like he had just won the lottery. "Then why are some of the page corners folded over? 'Reaffirming your teenager's self-esteem?' 'Building communication with your teen?' This stuff is golden, Harv," he laughed.

"Oh, are the page corners folded over?" Harvey asked airily. "I wouldn't know because _I'm not reading it_. Donna must have bought it secondhand and the previous owner annotated it."

Paul rolled his eyes and tossed the book back into the bedroom. "It's almost too easy to tease you these days, big brother. So you really have a client with the last name 'Gugenheimer'? That's unfortunate," he said, flopping onto the couch beside Harvey.

"Good to know that you abide by common societal views regarding the morality of eavesdropping," Harvey said.

"Hey, we already talked about the fact that you did a lot of the work raising me. If I have certain moral deficiencies than it's largely your fault," Paul said lightly. "But, come on, Gugenheimer? Really?"

Harvey hesitated for a second, waiting to make sure that he could hear the sound of the shower going and Mike singing 'Wonderful Christmas Time' before turning to Paul.

"No, he's not real. I just told Mike that so he'd accept the tickets and the vacation. His foster parents did a real number on him and now he's got a lot of self-esteem issues— he doesn't think he deserves anything besides the bare minimum," Harvey explained.

"You care about him, huh?" Paul asked, smiling gently.

Harvey shrugged noncommittally.

"Oh, come on, Harv," Paul said. "You can't kid a kidder— have you _seen _your apartment? Mike's trophy is on the mantle, Mike's report card is magneted up on the fridge, Mike himself was just wearing one of your Harvard t-shirts— if that isn't caring then I don't know what is."

Harvey sighed. "Yeah, yeah, alright— it's not so bad having the kid around. There, are you happy?"

"Yeah, I am," Paul said, uncharacteristically serious for once. "I'm happy for you and I'm glad that you've let someone else into your life— I know Dad's death has been just as hard for you as it's been for me. And I'm glad that I came here for Christmas, too. I miss seeing you, Harv. I know you're busy and I'm busy and we have our own lives— Alicia and I are getting pretty serious— but you'll always be my family."

Harvey looked at his brother, envious of Paul's ability to express his feelings freely. "Did we just have a moment?" He asked.

Paul grinned. "I think we did," he said, and they sat there in companionable silence as Mike finished getting ready to go.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by, as holidays always tend to. Harvey, Paul, and Mike all went to the nursing home for the afternoon and evening where they had dinner with Edith and Henry Morris. Donna came for the afternoon and then left to have dinner at her sister's house, but not before oohing and aahing over the plant that Mike had bought her while he blushed fiercely and scuffed his shoe on the floor in embarrassment.

Presents were exchanged— Grammy proudly wore the new sweater that Mike had bought her and she gave Mike and Harvey a framed needlework project that she had sewed of a panda cheerfully eating bamboo for the apartment. Henry Morris had bought Mike a rare book about the Korean War and was telling anyone who would listen that he was being discharged the following week because his hip was all better. Grammy was doing much better too— she was now able to walk short distances with a cane and the doctors were hoping to get her walking without it over the next few weeks.

After a loud dinner in which everyone drank a lot of wine (except Mike, despite his attempts to sneak some) and tried to talk over each other, Mike, Paul, and Harvey eventually said goodnight to Edith and Henry Morris and headed back to the apartment where they changed and sat down to watch "White Christmas," Mike drinking hot chocolate, Harvey nursing a scotch, and Paul sipping a beer.

As was becoming Harvey's expectation during most movie viewings, Mike fell asleep sprawled out on the couch about midway through. Harvey pulled a blanket over his sleeping charge when the movie was over and retired, telling Paul that he could take Mike's bed. Paul, who had imbibed several beers over the course of the movie, had just smiled hazily and waved goodnight.

And when Harvey awoke the next morning, Mike was no longer sprawled on the couch. Instead, he was in the kitchen with Donna, who had stopped by on her morning run to get a drink of water and tell Harvey that he had a meeting scheduled with a client, Frank Ilion, for the following day. They were both standing and staring at Paul, who had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor (his head pillowed on a jacket of Harvey's that he had snagged from the nearby coat closet) after drunkenly taking it upon himself to nail the panda needlepoint to Harvey's kitchen wall right above the table.

Harvey stared at the scene for a second before crossing over and nudging Paul in the side with his foot to make sure his little brother was still alive. Paul just let out a snore and drooled a little on Harvey's very expensive jacket. Rolling his eyes and pulling out the aspirin and putting it next to Paul for when he woke up, Harvey then turned to where Donna and Mike were examining Paul's intoxicated handiwork.

"We can't get it off, Harvey," Mike said in a hushed voice, looking like he really wanted to burst out laughing. "It's like he's superglued it to the wall or something."

"It definitely goes with the Spartan motif you were going for, I think," Donna whispered, trying not to giggle as she glanced from Harvey's high tech, sparsely decorated, futuristic looking kitchen to the smiling panda.

Both Mike and Donna were looking at him and clearly were waiting for him to explode and murder his little brother. But Harvey just shook his head goodnaturedly and poured himself a cup of coffee. Ignoring the looks of amazement that Donna and Mike exchanged, he sat down at his kitchen table and took stock of this year's Christmas. All of the people he cared about in one place and a panda on the wall. Not bad. Not bad at all.

* * *

**Writing this really made me wish Christmas would come already! Oh, and in regards to that picture that Paul gave Mike— when I wrote that I was thinking Gabriel cerca his appearance on Beverly Hills 90210 way back in the day— if you haven't seen it you should definitely look up a clip of it on youtube, it's both ridiculous and too amazing for words XD Anyway, this was like the world's longest chapter, hopefully it lived up to everyone's expectations and I didn't butcher Harvey's brother too badly haha  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15: THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK**

_**I get the news I need on the weather report**_

_**I can gather all the news I need on the weather report**_

_**Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile and here I am,**_

_**The only living boy in New York.**_

_**From "The Only Living Boy in New York"**_

* * *

"Are you sure you've got everything?"

"_Yes, _Harvey. For the millionth time, _yes_, I have everything. I only brought one change of clothes, remember? You complained the entire weekend about me wearing your socks," Paul said in exasperation, hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Because your feet are disgusting, Paul," Harvey said, fishing around in his wallet. He pulled out some bills and handed them to Paul. "Here. For the taxi."

"Oh, come on, Harv. I don't need your money," Paul said. "But I'll take it anyway." He grinned, grabbed the cash, and wrapped his arm around Mike in a loose headlock, drawing him closer sideways and messing up his hair. "Bye, Mikey. Nice meeting you. Take care of Harvey, would you?"

"Nice doo mee you too," Mike shouted into Paul's sleeve where his face was pressed, his voice muffled.

Paul released Mike, who gasped for breath, and then he grabbed Harvey in a hug. "See you over Easter, right? You're coming my way?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," Harvey said, waving Paul away. "Now get out of here."

"Mike, are you coming too? Because you should!" Paul said.

"What—coming to Easter? In Chicago? I don't know," Mike said nervously, not meeting either of the Specter men's gazes.

"Oh, come on, you're basically family now— we're so low on Specter clan members right now that Harvey and I may as well just have an open casting call for new people. And you've made Harvey's cut— which, might I add, has never happened before— so you're in on my end too. And you can meet my girlfriend then. Come on, it'll be fun! What do you say?" Paul cajoled. Mike glanced at Harvey uncertainly, looking for guidance. Did Harvey want him to come?

"If I can wrestle him away from Edith for the weekend, he'll be there," Harvey said decisively, and Mike beamed shyly at the thought of being included in Specter family activities.

Paul's phone buzzed then. "Oh, that'll be the taxi. Alright, well, it's been real. I'll see you guys in a few months," he said, smiling warmly and waving goodbye as he headed down the hallway towards the elevator.

"Text me when you land so I know you haven't done something stupid and gone and gotten the plane crashed!" Harvey called.

"Okay, mom!" Paul shouted before disappearing into the elevator.

Harvey rolled his eyes and shut the door. "Well that's that," Harvey said.

"Things are going to be a lot quieter around here now that he's gone, aren't they?" Mike asked, wandering aimlessly into the kitchen. He would miss Paul, he decided. He had that feeling of a cool uncle or much older brother that turned up every once in awhile to cheer everyone up and then disappeared again.

"Just you and me, kid," Harvey said.

Mike sighed. He was used to it just being him and Grammy, and Grammy was a very constant figure in his life. He liked having new people in his life but he was starting to realize that it was hard to see them come and go. "And then there were two," he mumbled grimly.

"You liked him, huh?" Harvey said. He approached Mike and gently flattened down his hair where Paul had messed it up. "Everyone does. Don't worry though— we'll see him in a few months."

And although Mike was still bummed about Paul leaving, he couldn't help but smile in spite of himself. A trip to D.C., a possible trip to Chicago— it was nice to have things to look forward to.

* * *

New Year's Eve came around a few days later. Jessica was forcing Harvey into attending a black tie banquet to try and woo a potential new client, and upon learning this Mike had made plans to hang out with Rachel and Harold.

It was the sort of event that Harvey would have greatly enjoyed under normal circumstances— rich food, fine wine, and beautiful women galore— and while he _was_ having a good time, he still felt like something was missing all evening. Still, he was successful in charming Jeremy Richards, the bright young up-and-coming CEO of a computer software program company that Jessica had been eyeing for awhile as a possible client. After some shop talk, Harvey and Jeremy toasted together and agreed to meet up the following week to talk business. And it was as simple as that, the job all taken care of by 10:30.

Harvey wandered around for awhile then— he considered seducing one of the classy, beautiful women surrounding him on all sides but ultimately decided against it. He didn't know if Mike was planning on sleeping over at Harold's house or not and he did _not _want Mike to walk in on him with a woman because then he'd be required to have That Talk About Sex with the teenager.

He knew he should probably stay and socialize to keep up appearances but he just wasn't really feeling up for it for some reason. He didn't feel sick or anything but right now he just…didn't want to be surrounded by crowds of unknown people who were getting increasingly drunker and rowdier. He realized he was craving the familiar comfort of the apartment and glanced around quickly trying to spot Jeremy. The young CEO was surrounded by dinner guests, chatting merrily. He wouldn't notice if Harvey ducked out now.

Harvey grabbed his jacket and slipped outside. He quickly hailed a cab and gave the driver his address, loosening the bow tie of his tuxedo and turning his head to stare pensively out the window. He didn't real care that much about it being a new year— he wasn't very big on holidays in general and he didn't see much point in celebrating that it was 2008— he never really felt compelled to make resolutions and the fact that another year had gone by just made him feel old.

Not to mention the fact that the New Year meant that it was January. Which meant that the McKinnon trial was coming up in 2 weeks. Which meant that he somehow needed to find those reports the McKinnon had hidden away by then. Which meant that he only had 2 weeks left as Mike's guardian.

Not that that was upsetting or anything, though. Because he had known all along that Mike was only staying with him temporarily— it wasn't like he'd gotten _that _attached to the kid. And it wasn't like he'd never see Mike again— they were going on vacation together in a few months, for heaven's sake.

Harvey heaved a slight sigh, wondering why he felt so strangely melancholy. He supposed it was just because he had gotten so used to Mike's presence cluttering his apartment. It would disrupt his daily routine to not have Mike there anymore— what would he do with all the spare time he normally spent driving Mike around, picking up after him, and attempting to cook food for him?

Yes, that was all it was. Harvey liked routine and Mike leaving was going to disrupt that. That was it, he told himself as he absentmindedly paid the cab driver before making his way over to the apartment elevator.

He entered the dark apartment still feeling oddly morose and weary. He was getting old, he decided— copping out and going home at 11 o'clock on New Year's Eve— it was downright embarrassing. He may as well just start eating prunes and taking in stray cats at this rate.

He took his coat off and went and attempted to sit on the couch. _Attempted_ to, that is, because the second he sat down he realized that the couch was oddly…lumpy and that it had just let out a panicked squeak and began _moving _desperately.

Harvey scrambled to his feet in alarm and began fumbling around for the lamp switch. After a minute of panicked attempts he finally got the lamp to turn on, his mind already racing ahead to the next step to take to fight off…well, whatever this was— either an enchanted couch or a robber that was taking a break and resting on the sofa. He'd have to find that baseball bat and—

"Jesus Christ, Harvey!" Mike's voice shouted from the floor. "You can't just come in here in the dark all mysteriously and _sit on people _like that when they don't expect it!"

"_Mike? _What the hell are you doing?!" Harvey exclaimed, attempting to process the fact that he had just sat on his 14-year-old ward somehow.

"Nothing! I was just lying on the couch, minding my own business and you _sat _on me!" Mike exclaimed, accepting Harvey's proffered hand and climbing to his feet, still breathing a bit quickly and squinting in the sudden light from the lamp.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that you were here? Aren't you supposed to be with your girlfriend?" Harvey said, his heart rate beginning to calm.

"Rachel's not my girlfriend," Mike huffed. "And I came back early— I had a lot on my mind. It's almost January, after all. It's kind of a big month for me, what with the trial and Grammy getting out of the nursing home. Lots of changes. I just wasn't in the mood to be around people so I came back here and I was trying to lie on the couch and have a nice peaceful think about things here in the dark. And then you came creeping in here trying to scare me to death," Mike said with a slight note of accusation in his voice. "Why are you back so early anyway? Did you close Jeremy Richards?"

"Yeah— piece of cake. It only took me an hour," Harvey said, taking off his suit coat. "Then Louis showed up and he wanted me to 'be his wingman' while he attempted to flirt with women so I left," he added, hastily coming up with an excuse so he didn't have to explain that he had left simply because he was feeling mopey and antisocial.

Fortunately Mike accepted this unquestioningly. "Ugh, it's no wonder why you got out of there," he shuddered, lying back down on the couch. "We're pretty lame, aren't we Harvey?" He asked, and Harvey could hear the smile in his voice. "Back at home base by 11 o'clock on New Year's Eve." Mike shook his head disparagingly.

Harvey thought for a moment. "Wait here a minute while I change," he said. "I want to show you something." Harvey went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he came back out to the den and motioned for Mike to join him by the front door.

"You'll need your jacket," Harvey said, passing the teen his coat while putting his own on. "That means gloves and a hat too." Mike rolled his eyes but bundled up as Harvey had dictated.

"I suppose there's no point in asking where you're taking me, is there?" Mike asked drily, struggling to put his converse on without untying them in the foyer as Harvey headed over to the kitchen and set about making something.

"Nope," Harvey called cheerfully. He emerged a few moments later holding two thermoses. "Here— coffee. It's decaf but it'll keep us warm."

Mike shrugged and took the proffered beverage. He took a big swig before raising his eyebrows and blinking. "Is this an Irish coffee?" He asked.

Harvey quickly swapped thermoses with Mike, looking alarmed. "Er—that one's mine. Yours would be the decaffeinated, alcohol-free one. Best not mention this to your grandmother."

Mike laughed and followed Harvey out into the hallway and over to the general apartment elevator. "Wow," he said. "We're going to use the elevator that all the normal people use instead of the personal one in the apartment? How very plebeian of you, Harvey. Is this some kind of New Year's resolution?"

Harvey just rolled his eyes as they stepped into the elevator, pulling out his key ring. He then stepped over to the control box and instead of pressing the button for a specific floor, used a small brass key in the keyhole next to the buttons. The elevator came to life and began to rise as Mike looked around in bewilderment.

"Er, Harvey, where are we going exactly?" He asked slightly nervously.

"You'll see in a second," Harvey said, and sure enough the elevator doors pinged open to reveal a small corridor with a black ladder leading up to a trapdoor on the ceiling. Mike eyed his surroundings dubiously as Harvey began to scale the ladder gracefully.

"Well are you coming or not?" Harvey asked, pushing open the trapdoor. Mike felt his face break into a grin as he peered beyond Harvey and saw the night sky above them. He began climbing up after Harvey and within a minute they were both standing up on the roof of the apartment building.

"Wow," Mike exhaled exuberantly, his breath materializing in front of him in the crisp, frigid night air. He took a sip of his coffee and felt it warm his body from the inside out. "This is like, ridiculously awesome. Do you come up here often?"

Harvey shrugged. "Sometimes. When I need to think about something this is a good place. It's been awhile though." He meandered over to the other side of the roof and pulled two folding chairs out from behind what appeared to be some kind of little shed. Mike wondered just how often Harvey came up here.

They sat down next to each other and took in the view silently. New York City was gleaming brilliantly, its ambiance even more vibrant than usual on account of it being New Year's Eve. But even the brightness of New York couldn't dim the light coming from the stars above. It was a remarkably clear night, and they were pretty high up. Mike suddenly felt very small looking at the massive city skyline framed by an even vaster horizon.

"Have you ever brought anyone else up here?" Mike wondered quietly after a few moments.

Harvey cleared his throat. "My dad," he replied. "He came to stay with me for a week last year before he….well, anyway, the city made him edgy after awhile— he was a country boy at heart; lived upstate all his life. So we came up here one night to get away from all the noise and people and just sat here and talked. It was good bonding," Harvey said. Mike wondered briefly what it meant that Harvey was doing things with Mike that he considered to be father-son bonding activities but chose not to comment on it.

"I'm sorry," Mike said, because it was weird to see the vulnerable human side of Harvey, who deep down past his swagger and false bravado was really just a guy who missed his dad.

"Don't be," Harvey said. "You've got your own things to be sad about. We're not so different sometimes, you and I."

Mike nodded even though he knew that Harvey couldn't see it. He resumed staring at the blinking lights of cars far beneath them.

"So you said you've got a lot on your mind. Are you worried about the trial?" Harvey asked after a brief pause.

"Yeah, that's part of it," Mike said. "I trust you to win and all; but I just don't know what Tanner's hiding up his sleeve and that makes me nervous."

"Well, I can't tell you a lot of the minutiae because some of it is confidential and it's a conflict of interest since you're inadvertently involved in the trial via your grandmother. But if it makes you feel better, I don't think Tanner's got anything up his sleeve— he's just smug because he's somehow managed to bury some key evidence. We know that McKinnon received warnings for two years prior to your grandmother's fall that their factories weren't operating according to New York safety ordinances. But those reports have disappeared and McKinnon claims they never saw them— I'm sure Tanner's to blame for it somehow. But I've got people looking into, and I don't want you to worry about it, Mike," Harvey said sternly. "And I don't want you getting any ridiculous ideas in your head of playing detective and going to find these reports yourself, alright? Leave this up to me."

Mike nodded. He trusted Harvey and he trusted Harvey's people. "Thanks for bringing me up here, Harvey," he said, taking a swig of his coffee. "It means a lot."

Harvey just reached over and pulled Mike's hat down so that it covered his ears properly in response. They sat there in silence for a long while, each lost in their own respective thoughts. Mike was caught in a mix of emotions— he was excited to move back in with Grammy in a few weeks but at the same time he didn't want to leave Harvey and the apartment.

"Sometimes I wish things could just stay the same forever," Mike finally said quietly, and it felt good to get that off his chest. He hoped that this was a vague enough statement that Harvey wouldn't read into it too deeply.

All of a sudden the world exploded in light and sound as the clock struck midnight and the new year began. Harvey glanced over at Mike, who was observing the joyful commotion with a grin on his face. "Me too," he admitted quietly, knowing that the sound would be lost as fireworks boomed nearby to herald the beginning of January.

When the noise and chaos died down somewhat, Mike looked over at Harvey, oblivious to the admission Harvey had just made. "Happy New Year, Harvey," he said.

"The same to you," Harvey returned as they toasted with their coffee, and they sat there and watched people dancing in the streets until they were so cold they couldn't feel their faces, toes, or fingers.

And if Harvey hummed along a bit as he listened to Mike singing "Auld Lang Syne" in the shower when they finally went inside, well, it wasn't like it was out of some strange sense of bittersweet emotion at what the coming month would bring. It was obviously all the Irish coffee's fault.

* * *

"God, I don't want to go back to school tomorrow," Mike groaned dramatically, slamming a heavy law tome down on the coffee table of Harvey's office. "Why is winter break so short?!" he lamented at (what was in Harvey's opinion) a very excessive volume. Harvey cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off an oncoming headache. It was a few days into January and Mike was currently deep in the throes of a school-induced angst fest.

"Yes, I think you've said that about 5 times already," Harvey said drily. "In the last fifteen minutes, that is. If we count all day that'd probably be at least 500 times."

Mike sighed and opened up the next folder in his stack of files that he was reviewing for Harvey. "It's just so stupid and boring. I've been able to do all the work they gave me since I was like 7 years old."

"Aren't you in the gifted and talented program at the school?" Harvey asked absently as he skimmed over paperwork at his desk.

"Yeah, but it's still way too easy. They keep giving me intelligence tests and I keep blowing them out of the water. So they just stuck me in the hardest classes the school offers and that's that," Mike shrugged casually.

Harvey frowned. "Well have you ever looked into going to college early? There are programs that will take teenagers, you know."

"Haven't we talked about this already? I can't just leave Grammy. And I don't know where I'm supposed to get the money to go to college in 4 years, never mind right now," Mike sighed.

Harvey let the matter drop but filed it in his mind as something to think about in the future. Mike deserved a challenging education— if he was forced into classes that left him bored to tears sooner or later he'd begin causing trouble or rebelling. But then he remembered that in two weeks Mike and Mike's education wouldn't be any of his business anymore and quickly forced himself to get back to work and stop dwelling on the matter.

"I'm done with the Landry paperwork," Mike said after a few minutes.

"Good. Can you take it to Daniel Hardman's office for me? Just leave it with his secretary," Harvey said.

"I'm not your delivery boy, you know," Mike said as he obediently stood. "I'm just going because I want to stretch my legs, not because I want to be your lackey."

"Okay, Mike," Harvey said amiably. "Good boy."

Mike scowled as he left, recognizing Harvey's patronization. "I'm not your puppy either!" He called as he headed down the hallway. Harvey allowed himself a brief smile before getting back to work.

* * *

Mike had never been to Daniel Hardman's office before. He had seen the man from afar but had never personally talked to him. All he knew was that Harvey didn't like him for some reason but he didn't know why.

When he got to Hardman's office, his secretary was absent from her desk. Glancing around quickly to make sure nobody saw him snooping, he ducked behind the desk and quickly read over the secretary's calendar. It said that Hardman was at a meeting at the moment, and Mike assumed the secretary had gone with to take notes.

He shrugged and wondered if he should just leave the paperwork on the desk. But then again, the Landry bankruptcy was very confidential at the moment and he probably shouldn't just leave it out in the open for anyone to read. If the news leaked it could be disastrous for the firm's reputation. Nobody wanted lawyers who went spewing their clients' most private business affairs to random passerby.

He tentatively jiggled the handle on Hardman's office door and when it opened, he slipped inside. He'd just leave the paperwork on the desk really quickly and get out with no one the wiser to his invasion. He crossed through the spacious, elegantly decorated office and was about to place it on the desk and leave when a familiar file caught his eye.

Frowning, he placed the Landry papers on the desk and grabbed the Hernandez file and opened it. He had looked over this paperwork himself after Harvey had done it more than two weeks ago— why did Hardman have it now? He began skimming through it and his frown grew. Something was wrong here— Mike knew numbers and he knew this paperwork. Something was very off— more than $100,000 dollars was missing somewhere. And it hadn't been missing when Mike had looked it over two weeks ago.

All of a sudden he heard the office door opening. Panicking, he dropped the Hernandez file and dove behind Hardman's couch, grateful for the dimness of the dusky winter light filtering through the glass window. He heard Hardman come in, walk over to his desk, and sit down.

Mike fought the urge to swear violently. What if Hardman was settling in to work for a few hours? It was only 5 o'clock; Hardman could be planning to stay here all evening for all Mike knew. Harvey would start to wonder where he was soon (and not to mention the fact that he kind of had to pee). He couldn't just hide behind this couch forever— he was bound to get found out sooner or later and it was definitely going to be awkward when that happened.

He was so close to full-out panic that he slipped and let out a muffled gasp when the intercom buzzed. Hardman paused for a moment before answering it and Mike winced, knowing that Hardman was probably looking suspiciously in the direction of the couch. But he answered the intercom anyway and Mike heaved a silent sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

"Your wife is on line two, Daniel," the secretary's voice said.

"Thank you, Janet," Hardman said. Mike listened with bated breath as Hardman pressed a button and began having a conversation.

"Hi, Alicia…how are you feeling, honey?...no, you don't have chemotherapy scheduled for tomorrow, that's right….you want to get lunch?...okay, what time?...how are you feeling?...your medicine is in the bathroom cabinet if you keep feeling nauseous…yes, I'll try to make it home soon…okay, love you too. Goodbye, dear."

Mike frowned as Hardman hung up after that brief exchange. It seemed like a pretty run-of-the-mill husband and wife phone call…but he hadn't known that Hardman's wife had cancer. That was too bad. Maybe that was why Hardman seemed like such a grumpy asshole all the time.

Mike heard the rustling of papers and realized that Hardman was working on files. He felt himself starting to sweat— what if he was trapped here forever? He had just begun plotting different potential diversions and escape routes (he was just beginning to consider stripping down to his underwear, jumping on Hardman's desk, and signing the national anthem as his best bet— he figured Hardman would be so baffled that he wouldn't have time to get angry until after Mike had already escaped) when the intercom buzzed again. Mike flinched but was able to contain his gasp this time.

"Travis Tanner is on line 1, Daniel," Janet said. Mike felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Why the hell was Hardman talking to Tanner?

He heard Hardman pick up the receiver. "I told you not to call this phone line, Tanner," Hardman hissed. "No, well, go on, it's too late now. Say what you need to say…Yes, it's all in place…Harvey won't know what hit him, he has no clue that we've been working together."

Mike gasped and covered his mouth in horror before listening as hard as he could, willing his brain to commit this information to memory. After all, there wasn't exactly a gamut of people named Harvey running around the firm at the moment for Tanner and Hardman to be potentially discussing.

"…you swear that those reports are buried properly? If Harvey gets a hold of them we're in trouble….No! We are _not _going to extort money from the Arthur Corporation; we've done enough as it is. The Hernandez Fund is the last one. I just need the money for Alicia's cancer treatments; I'm not trying to get rich off of this, you idiot…but Harvey Specter can _not _find those reports, Tanner. If he catches on that I've set him up as the fall guy for this we'll be in trouble….just make certain he doesn't get the reports, Tanner. And make sure that he doesn't win that McKinnon case. And don't call me at the office again!" Hardman hung up then and resumed working.

Mike sat there in shock, still hiding behind the couch as his mind buzzed, fitting together all the pieces of what he had just overheard. So Hardman's wife had cancer and Hardman was trying to make money for her medical bills by extorting from clients? And he had set Harvey up as the fall guy for it, probably by intentionally leaving a paper trail leading to him. After all, the Hernandez paperwork had Harvey's name and Harvey's signature on it. When the $100,000 turned up missing, it would all point to Harvey. Who knew how many files Hardman had done that with; how much money he had extorted? And Hardman had hired Tanner to bury the McKinnon reports so that Harvey would lose the trial and be discredited. Then he was probably planning on coming out with all of this extortion evidence and getting Harvey disbarred and fired with no one the wiser to his own extortion of the money for Alicia's treatments.

It was a perfect plan. Alarmingly perfect. And devious. If Mike hadn't overheard these two conversations no one would ever have known what was going on and Harvey would be fired for certain. And he couldn't let Harvey get fired! Not while there was still time to stop it from happening.

Mind scrambling furiously, Mike hardly noticed when Hardman stood up and left his office to talk to Janet about photocopying something for him. When this realization dawned on him he was up and out of that office as fast as his feet could go.

He walked blindly back to Harvey's office, his brain racing to figure out what he should do with this new information. He needed to get his hands on those buried reports first and foremost, he decided. But he couldn't tell Harvey yet— Harvey wouldn't take Hardman's betrayal lightly, especially since he already disliked the man. Mike feared one of two things would happen: Harvey would go running off to confront the wayward managing partner before getting any evidence and then Hardman would just be able to deny the accusations and bury his tracks before they could pin the extortion and evidence burying on him. _Or _Harvey would go and try and find those reports himself at McKinnon's headquarters, which would probably end horribly. Mike presumed that the headquarters of a corporation probably had some type of pretty tight security, and it would _not _look good if Harvey Specter, the lawyer suing McKinnon, got caught trespassing and snooping through McKinnon's confidential paperwork. So Mike would just have to do it himself. He knew that he'd promised Harvey the other day that he wouldn't get himself mixed up in any of this but that was before he knew that there was treason at work within Pearson Hardman. Surely his involvement in the matter now was justified.

He tried to school his troubled features into a mask of neutrality before reentering Harvey's office, but something must have shown in his expression because Harvey looked up with what may have possibly been concern when he collapsed back on the couch without saying a word.

"Did you get lost on the way or something? Maybe next time Donna can hold your hand and lead you there, okay?" Harvey said.

"I heard that," Donna's voice cut in ominously over the intercom.

"Sorry," Harvey apologized hastily. "So, what— did Louis try and teach you ballet again?"

"Yeah, something like that," Mike mumbled with a nervous laugh. Part of him wanted to just blurt out what he had overheard Hardman and Tanner saying. But the need to get the papers by himself and protect Harvey from getting involved was stronger than the impulse to tell Harvey. Part of him knew that this was a really bad idea. But he couldn't really bring himself to care. He'd get the reports as evidence, and then come clean to Harvey. By that point the lawyer would be so preoccupied with the Hardman-Tanner situation that he wouldn't have time to be mad at Mike. Now all that mattered was getting in and out of McKinnon incident-free…

* * *

"Alright, so I'll be kind of far away but you can call Donna if you need anything," Harvey said. Mike watched intently as his guardian made a series of complicated hand motions and somehow managed to perfectly tie his bowtie. He gave Harvey an odd look.

"Harvey, you know that I'm fourteen, right? You can leave me alone for one night; I think I'll manage to survive. I mean, it'll be hard but I'll give it my best shot," Mike said sarcastically. Harvey was currently getting ready to leave for Atlantic City for the night. He and Jeremy Richards were celebrating Jeremy becoming an official Pearson Hardman client tonight and Jeremy had wanted to go out and celebrate at the casino. Since it was about 2 ½ hours away, Harvey was going for the entire night and coming back the next morning, while Mike stayed at the apartment by himself. And apparently the odds for Mike's survival weren't looking good in Harvey's opinion.

Harvey still looked somewhat dubious. "No visitors tonight, Mike— and that means no Rachel," Harvey said sternly.

"Why can't Rachel come over?" Mike asked curiously, wondering why Harvey had chosen to mention her specifically.

Harvey looked…actually somewhat uncomfortable now, which was a first. Mike stared in disbelief as Harvey cleared his throat and pulled at his collar like it was a little too tight. "Because…because…you know why, Mike. She's a young lady….and you're a hormone-driven teenage boy…" Harvey trailed off, looking like he'd rather be sawing off his left arm than continuing the conversation at hand.

Mike blinked in confusion, not really getting why Harvey was making such a big deal out of the fact that Rachel was a girl.

Upon seeing Mike's continued bewilderment Harvey seemed to steel himself to elaborate, his jaw set firmly. "Mike…I know that you say that you and Rachel are just friends but has anyone ever talked to you about se—"

Mike's eyes widened in horror as comprehension suddenly dawned on him. "Oh GOD, Harvey, are you trying to have a_ sex talk _with me_?!"_ He shouted in abject terror. "This is not happening. This is not happening." He told himself out loud. Harvey was definitely looking uncomfortable now.

"Look, Mike, it might be awkward for us to do this but better me than your grandmother, right?" Harvey said coaxingly.

Mike couldn't help but feel warmed by the gesture and Harvey's willingness to talk about something that clearly made him uncomfortable. But that didn't mean that he was actually going to be a willing participant in this conversation, dammit!

"Look, Harvey, don't worry about it. Health class in school pretty much covered it all. But if I have any questions I'll come to you, okay? I appreciate the gesture but, really, we don't need to talk about it," Mike said, trying to keep his tone neutral and grateful now that he had overcome his initial horror at the fact that Harvey was trying to have a sex talk with him.

"Okay, good," Harvey sighed in relief, apparently just as willing to let the matter drop as Mike was. He busied himself with grabbing his jacket and his overnight bag. "Alright, I need to get going. Jeremy said he'd be here any minute. You'll be alright?"

"Yep," Mike said innocently, taking a seat on the couch and turning on the TV. "I'll just be right here having a nice quiet night in all by myself."

Harvey narrowed his eyes in suspicion at this overly innocuous statement but didn't have time to investigate further since his phone buzzed. "Right, that's Jeremy. Call Donna if you need something and stay out of trouble, Mike."

"Bye, Harvey," Mike called as Harvey left. He waited a few minutes to be sure Harvey wasn't coming back for anything before jumping up and heading over to his room where he got dressed in all black, feeling like a cat burglar or something. This was perfect timing on Harvey's part— he was gone for the entire night, which gave Mike ample time to sneak into (he refused to think the words "break in") to McKinnon and get a look around to try and find the missing reports. He really hoped that the reports hadn't been shredded and that they were still just tucked away somewhere within the corporate offices that were attached to the factory. Surely it would be extremely conspicuous and blatantly suspicious if Tanner went into McKinnon and started shredding documents, so hopefully it was just buried instead of destroyed.

He stepped out into the cold night air, grateful for his warm jacket and hat and gloves. Grabbing his bike, he pulled his hood up and tried to cover up as much of his face as was possible to protect himself from the icy wind. This bike ride was _not _going to be a good time. Fortunately McKinnon's headquarters weren't _too _far away, but it was still January in New York City all the same.

Gritting his teeth against the cold, he set off, pedaling as quickly as he could. His eyes were tearing up from the cold, but he just reminded himself that he was doing this to save Harvey's ass and that it was worth it.

When he finally got close to the corporate offices, he tucked his bike in a thicket of bushes and walked around to the back door of the headquarters. This was where things got tricky. He couldn't exactly walk in the front door dressed in all black since he was assuming the McKinnon had spent ample money on security cameras. Fortunately he had Grammy's McKinnon ID on him, which would get him inside. Then it was really just a matter of avoiding security guards and the like.

He quickly checked his watch. 10:00. Good— hopefully nobody would be at the office this late on a Friday night.

He swiped Grammy's card at the back entrance and when he heard the lock click he slipped inside as quietly as possible. He realized that he was in some sort of storage area in the basement and he needed to get to the offices where the filing room would be. Spotting a staircase out of the corner of his eye, he crept over and climbed upstairs to the office center. He could see the security guard, his back to Mike, keeping an eye on the front door. He tiptoed quietly over to the office door, praying that the guard wouldn't turn around and see him. Then he swiped his card and snuck inside.

He cautiously wound his way through a dark maze of cubicles and offices. He wasn't sure where he was going exactly but he knew he'd know when he got there. He tried a couple of doors before spotting a lone door off in the corner. He pushed the door open and grinned— jackpot. He had found the filing room. This really was turning out to be a surprisingly easy mission. Now if only he could find the reports…

He slid out of his jacket and set to work. It turned out to be a ridiculously long, arduous process. He essentially had to go slogging through all their reports and files until he found what he was looking for. Fortunately there were just a few filing cabinets full of information since McKinnon just kept their own paperwork—unlike Pearson Hardman, where they were storing a decade's worth of cases and files that Harvey always wanted him to go look through.

He had searching for almost two hours when he finally found it. He froze and rubbed his tired eyes to make certain that this was really it, a huge grin of relief breaking out on his face. This was _perfect! _He took a minute to sit down and read through the reports and grinned at how incriminating it was. "…_factory machinery in dangerous state of disrepair…employee injuries may be sustained…not fit for operation…working conditions don't comply with federal law…" _

He felt exhilarated at finding this key piece of evidence, as he knew it would singlehandedly save Harvey and help Grammy. But he couldn't help but feel furious with McKinnon too. They had _known _about the shape that their factories were in. They could have done something to fix the problems instead of just ignoring it and Grammy would be fine right now.

He had just put the reports back into the file they had been in and was getting ready to sneak back out of there with the precious file and call it a night when he heard loud footsteps walking in the direction of the filing room. Even though he knew that it was probably just the guard doing his nightly rounds, he panicked, dropped to the floor, and scooted as quickly as he could into a corner just in case whoever it was came in the file room for some reason. He moved too quickly, however, and bumped into the copier in his attempts to hide quickly and quietly. And that was when the shredder fell from on top of the copier and hit Mike on the head.

And then everything went black.

* * *

**Why was the shredder on top of the copier, you may ask? That's a great question; I've got no clue but I really just needed a blunt object to hit Mike over the head with. Sorry about the cliffhanger, I know I'm being a little evil XD Hopefully the whole Hardman-and-Tanner-are-bad-and-they're-working-together plot is understandable… it's mostly stolen from the actual show so it should, but it's hard for me to tell if I'm explaining things well since it's all in my head. Like you know when you read a story and all of a sudden there's this elaborate plot twist that clearly makes sense in the author's mind but you're just left like o.O "…wait, what's going on?" Yeah. That. Hopefully that's not what just happened haha. But once again thanks for all the kind reviews, follows, likes, and lurks. You guy are awesome and I really appreciate it :D Now that midterms are over my life should settle down a little and hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter soonish. *fingers crossed* And now back to pacing around, biting my fingernails, and just generally fretting over the election!**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

_I was unafraid_

_I was a boy_

_I was a tender age_

_-From "Michicant" by Bon Iver_

* * *

Ralph Kafka did not particularly enjoy his job. It meant sleeping all day long and sitting at a desk all night, which consequently missing that he was missing most of his daughter's life even though they lived under the same roof. He hadn't made it to a little league game or ballet recital all year, in fact.

So he was not altogether pleased when he found himself being assigned an extra shift on what was supposed to be his night off. He really despised McKinnon and didn't give a damn about their building security. He did give a damn about money, though, so he put on his security guard uniform and went to work that night, expecting everything to be as it usually was— boring, boring, and even more boring. His job was to sit and guard the front door of the McKinnon offices. He was supposed to get up and do rounds of the building every hour, but nothing ever happened so he usually caught a nap and then did rounds once or twice throughout the night. Sometimes he talked to the janitor, Marvin, but it was Marvin's night off too this evening.

Ralph had just woken up from a catnap a little after midnight when he realized that it had been a few hours and that he should probably stretch his legs and make his rounds of the place. He stood and went about his business as usual— first walk through the main entrance, then through the offices and to the back. He didn't know why he even bothered with this part of the job description; it wasn't like anyone ever came here at night anyway…well, except for those two hotshot lawyers who had come in a few months ago and rummaged around in the file room for a bit before leaving. Said lawyers had paid Ralph nicely to keep quiet about their trespassing, so he hadn't brought it to his supervisor's attention that anyone had been there at night. Although he had seen one of them again a few weeks later during daytime office hours. Apparently he was defending McKinnon in a big lawsuit— some bigheaded attorney named Tammany or Tanner or something.

Ralph sighed and made his way to the back of the offices towards the filing room. He dutifully marched by the filing room and then immediately turned around and went to head back to his desk where he planned on reading the comics of yesterday's newspaper. He was technically supposed to walk through the filing room and make sure that it was secure, but it wasn't like anyone ever went in there anyways even during normal office hours when people were actually here working and—

_Crash. _Ralph froze in surprise at the suspiciously loud noise and turned around and backtracked to the filing room. He pulled out his flashlight and his nightstick (he wasn't qualified to carry a gun) and tentatively pushed open the door to the filing room. He shut off his flashlight and tucked it away, as the lights to the room were already on. Strange. He ducked around a bookshelf filled with records to get back to where the filing cabinets were and stopped short upon seeing an unconscious teenager slumped over in the corner next to the copier, the shredder on the floor next to him.

He edged forward and tentatively poked the kid a few times. He didn't stir but fortunately he was still breathing. Ralph sighed heavily. _I really hate this job_, he thought as he began shaking the teenager's shoulders to rouse him. The boy had obviously been knocked out somehow and it probably wasn't a smart idea to shake him or forcibly wake him up, but Ralph couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted this kid out of his hair and out of his line of responsibility.

Finally the kid stirred and blinked large blue eyes in confusion, moaning in pain and clutching at his head. "Where`m I?" he mumbled blearily.

"McKinnon Pharmaceutical Headquarters," Ralph boomed. The teenager winced at the excessive volume and clumsily clapped his hands over his ears. "What's your name, kid?"

There was a moment of slow blinking and a lot of thought. Ralph rolled his eyes as the kid struggled to remember his own name. "Mike," he finally said.

"And what exactly are you doing here at 1 in the morning, Mike?" Ralph said in his most intimidating voice. But it fell on deaf ears; Mike was just staring at the wall blankly and swaying slightly even though he was sitting down.

Ralph sighed. "Alright, Mike, either I can call the cops right now and report you for trespassing and they can come and take you off my hands or I can call someone for you to come help," he said, crossing his fingers that the teenager would want to call someone so that Ralph could then blackmail that person into paying him off to keep quiet when they came to get him.

Ralph was anticipating that another moment of intense thought would be necessary before the teen could process this and come to a decision. But as soon as he mentioned someone coming to help Mike had perked up.

"Harvey," he said, his voice slightly slurred. "M'phone. Here," he rummaged clumsily around in his pockets for a minute before pulling out his cell phone. He tried to put it in Ralph's outstretched hand but missed by at least a foot.

Ralph snatched the phone and scrolled through the contacts until he came upon the name _Harvey. _He pressed the 'call' button and waited. It rang several times and Ralph was beginning to fear that nobody would pick up and he'd be stuck with this kid all night. But finally someone answered.

"Harvey Specter," a cool voice said over the line.

"This is Ralph Kafka," Ralph said in his most official voice. He looked down at Mike, who had either fallen asleep or passed out again. "Look, I think I have something that belongs to you…"

* * *

"Come on, let's go….up you get," a voice was saying. Mike wished it would stop. Why was everything so loud and painful? It seemed like every sound was magnified times a million and it was making the sharp pain in his head worse. He vaguely felt himself being heaved into a standing position, although he had no clue who was supporting him. Then he was being dragged somewhere and he was deposited back on the ground none too gently.

"…that guy will be here to get you in a few hours…just sit there…" He heard a man's voice saying but he had no clue what that meant.

He brain felt like it was submerged in very murky water at the moment but he tried to take stock of what he knew about his surroundings and physical condition—everything was hazy and he was having a difficult time thinking clearly for some reason. He was lying huddled up on the ground and his head really really hurt…and that was it. That was all he knew. Where was he again?

He remained there for a long time, half-asleep most of the time and sometimes completely out of it. His world had narrowed to two things: pain and a dim sense of confusion. It was possible that several days or months or years had passed since he had been sitting…well, wherever he was sitting. Or maybe it was only minutes? He had no clue but he couldn't bring himself to care that much.

Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, Mike felt gentle hands on him, pulling him into a sitting position and propping him up against the wall.

"Mike," someone was saying in a low, concerned voice by his ear. "Mike, can you hear me?"

Mike couldn't exactly remember who the voice belonged to but it was a familiar, comforting sound. He felt himself relaxing slightly, his aching head tipping to the side. It really hurt— and why were his eyelids so heavy right now?

The hands were back and now they were cupping Mike's cheeks and framing his face with their comforting warmth. The voice was still talking, sounding increasingly alarmed. "Come on, Mike. Open your eyes now." Mike didn't like how worried the voice sounded. Was he worried because of Mike? Maybe Mike should say something.

"Dad?" He groaned in confusion. The hands suddenly tensed and froze. Mike didn't know what to make of this and he struggled to force his eyelids open.

"It's Harvey, Mike," the voice said quietly, and one of the thumbs of the gentle hands began to move slightly, stroking back and forth across Mike's cheek a few times in a light, almost subconscious way.

"Hi, Harvey," Mike said slowly. "Why are you here? Why am I here? Where's here, anyway?" Harvey's face slowly came into focus in front of him. His guardian looked unusually agitated, his mouth taut and his eyes dark and crinkled in concern.

"Shh," Harvey said. "Did you hit your head? Where does it hurt?"

Mike thought hard for a minute before bringing a strangely clumsy hand up to the back of the top of his head, just off to the right. He hissed with pain when he pressed down slightly, and when he pulled away his hand was covered in blood. He looked up at Harvey, eyes wide with panic. Harvey's lips thinned even further upon seeing the blood.

"Sit here for a minute, Mike," Harvey said, pushing off the ground and moving to stand up.

"Harvey," Mike whimpered pathetically. Where was Harvey going?

"I'm not leaving, Mike," Harvey said slowly and deliberately. "I'm just going to talk to your security guard friend over here for a minute, okay?"

Mike thought there was something funny about Harvey's tone of voice when he said the security guard was his friend but he couldn't really understand it. He just nodded, trusting that everything would be fine now that Harvey was here. He felt his heavy eyelids drifting shut once again and as he drifted off he thought he heard Harvey arguing with someone in the background but he couldn't quite be certain…

* * *

Harvey was irate. "It's been three hours! And you've just left him there, sitting and bleeding! What if it was something really serious?" Harvey snapped furiously at Ralph the security guard before glancing over at Mike to make sure that he was doing alright. The teen had gone back to sleep and was curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Look, if you want your kid to stay safe then don't let him go around breaking and entering where he doesn't belong. He's not my problem," Ralph said callously.

Harvey saw red. He took a deep breath to stop himself from punching Ralph in the face— it probably wouldn't help matters to have two concussed people on his hands. "I could make your life a living hell if I wanted to," Harvey said, his voice calm but cold.

"What, you think that just because you're some fancy lawyer with a rod shoved up your ass that you can ruin my life? You're forgetting one thing— I could very easily call the cops right now and get that kid arrested for trespassing," Ralph declared triumphantly.

Harvey stopped for a moment to think about his next move. He had to admit that this Ralph guy was pretty smart to use leverage like this— if he wasn't such an ass he might have made a good lawyer. "Alright, well how about I don't call my friend and ask her to look into every single misdemeanor and parking violation of your past, and you don't call the cops on Mike over here? Sounds like we both win then," Harvey said coaxingly.

Ralph shook his head. "Nah…you come off better on that end of the deal. Feel free to look into my past— you won't find anything on my record besides one parking ticket from 10 years ago. But your kid on the other hand— well, he's only a teenager. Won't look so good on his college applications to have to list 'breaking and entering' as one of his hobbies, will it?"

Harvey narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" He asked.

"What does anyone want in this world? Money, obviously," Ralph said as though Harvey were an idiot.

Harvey sighed. Normally he would take the time to wrangle what he wanted out of a guy like this and hopefully knock him down a few pegs in the process…but the most important thing right now was getting Mike some medical attention and not schooling some idiot who clearly hated his job and his life.

"Fine," Harvey said, reaching into his pocket to find his checkbook…only to discover it was missing. He resisted the urge to groan aloud— he had been in such a hurry that he must have left his wallet in the cab he had taken to get here—his wallet that had contained his license, credit cards, and not to mention $3000 cash that he had won at the casino. Could this night get any worse?

He had no clue what he was going to do. He opened his mouth to say something; _anything_ to distract Ralph until he could figure out another plan. But the decision of what to say next was taken out of his hands when the office door opened and a new man walked onto the scene somewhat uncertainly. He looked from Ralph to Mike to Harvey, and when his eyes settled on Harvey he looked oddly reassured about something.

"Uh, excuse me, sir, but I think you left this in my cab," the man said, holding up Harvey's wallet. Harvey let out a slight sigh of relief as he recognized the taxi driver who had brought him here from the bus stop.

"Thank you—" Harvey began.

"Ray," the taxi driver filled in helpfully.

"Thank you, Ray," Harvey said, pulling out a couple of bills and passing them to Ralph. "There you go. Blatant bribery."

Ralph pocketed the cash gleefully. "Oh, come on…bribery is such a harsh word. Consider it as more of a donation to my daughter's little league team…although it may or may not actually make it all the way to the team."

"You keep your end of the deal and we won't have any problems, alright, Ralph?" Harvey asked firmly. Ralph nodded and Harvey pocketed his wallet.

He crossed back over to Mike and gently shook the boy's shoulder. "Mike," he said quietly. "Come on, time to get up."

"5 more minutes," Mike mumbled, weakly attempting to bat away Harvey's hands as Harvey helped him into a sitting position and then pulled him to his feet. He slung one of Mike's arms around his neck and was pleasantly surprised when Ray hurried over and supported Mike on his other side.

Ray and Harvey led Mike back outside and Harvey helped Mike into the back of Ray's taxi before sliding in next to him. Mike immediately slumped over onto Harvey's side, his head resting on Harvey's shoulder as he dozed fitfully.

"Just take us to the closest hospital," Harvey told Ray. Ray nodded and maneuvered skillfully through the neighborhood to get to the local hospital. When they parked, Harvey pulled out his wallet and attempted to give Ray a large sum of cash as a thank-you. But Ray refused.

"Thank you, but all I need is the cab fare and nothing extra. I'm moving back to India soon, you see— business is very bad here and I have a young family to support. We leave in a few days," Ray explained and Harvey paused thoughtfully to think this over. Ray seemed like a genuinely kind person— he had gone to the trouble of finding Harvey and returning his money and then he helped Mike (who was currently drooling on Harvey's shoulder— on his _very _expensive tuxedo, no less) and he refused to accept a reward for any of it. Not to mention he was both a fast and skilled driver.

"I'll tell you what, Ray— I've actually been looking for a personal driver. Would you be interested?" Harvey asked, pulling one of his business cards out of his wallet and passing it over to Ray.

Ray's face lit up. "Are you serious?!" He exclaimed. "Thank you so much, Mr…. Specter," he said, reading the card.

"Call me Harvey. And you seem like a good driver and I could really use the help. It's the least I can do," Harvey said as he dragged Mike out of the car. "Call that number tomorrow and talk to my secretary Donna, she'll get you all set up."

Ray nodded gratefully and waved as he drove away. Harvey maneuvered Mike into the emergency room and accepted the clipboard of paperwork from the admitting nurse. He then ushered Mike over to a two-person bench and sat him down there before taking a seat next to the drowsy teen.

He started filling out the papers, pleased with the fact that he was able to fill in a lot more this time than when he had brought Mike in with pneumonia. Mike's breathing was low and even and his head wasn't bleeding anymore. Harvey felt himself beginning to unwind for the first time since 1 in the morning when he had received the phone call from Ralph, who had said that he had found Mike passed out and bleeding and provided no other details. Panicked, he had immediately left the casino and caught a bus back to New York, where he had caught Ray's cab to McKinnon.

He allowed himself to relax a little bit and breathe a little easier. Hopefully Mike would be okay— although there was still the matter of figuring out what had possessed him to go and break into McKinnon in the middle of the night. He had been looking for the buried reports, no doubt— but why? Mike had promised that he wouldn't get involved and he had seemed to really mean it— sure, the kid had a lot riding on this case, but he had said that he trusted Harvey to take care of it. What had changed?

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked quietly. Mike just mumbled something about penguins under his breath and snuggled into Harvey's side contentedly. Harvey rolled his eyes but made no move to dislodge Mike.

And when the doctor came, Harvey had to resist the urge to laugh out loud at how ridiculous his life and this night were. Because standing there in front of them was good old Dr. Brown.

* * *

"…so you're saying that Daniel Hardman has been embezzling money from the firm because his wife has cancer and that he and Travis Tanner have been working together to frame me for it?" Harvey asked Mike, pacing back and forth in front of the TV.

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds kind of far-fetched. But I swear that it's true! I overheard it all, Harvey," Mike said earnestly from his spot on the couch. It had been almost two days since Mike's nighttime misadventure, and Mike was finally awake enough and coherent enough to recant all that had happened that had led to him going after the reports on his own.

"I believe you, Mike," Harvey promised. Mike's face broke into a relieved grin. "It's just a lot to take in at once. I've had my suspicions about Hardman for some time but to learn that he's been working with Tanner…well, let's just say that _that _bit of it is unexpected."

"Except I screwed up and now we don't have any evidence!" Mike exclaimed in frustration, running his hands through his hair in aggravation. He quickly winced and dropped his hands when he touched the knot on the back of his head that was still healing.

"Time for more painkillers," Harvey declared upon seeing this display, heading into the kitchen and rummaging around for Mike's prescription bottle.

"No, I don't need them anymore!" Mike tried to insist. "Come on, Harvey, you _know _I don't like them. They make me all loopy and weird."

"I fail to see how 'loopy and weird' is any different from the way that you normally are," Harvey said, passing Mike a glass of water and two pills.

"But I'm only just starting to feel like myself again, Harvey. And I'm tired of sleeping! Can't I just take one? I promise I'm fine," Mike said, his eyes wide and sincere.

Harvey sighed as he removed one of the pills and put it back in the bottle while Mike downed the other. "Fine, but if you're not going to sleep then we're going to have a talk about what exactly you were thinking when you decided it would be a really clever idea to break into a corporate office and steal confidential documents."

Mike paled. "On second thought, my head really hurts. I had better take both pills and go straight to bed—"

Harvey merely shook his head and sat down on the coffee table so that he was right in front of Mike facing him and staring at him rather intently.

"— shit," Mike said upon realizing that he had lost the battle and that Harvey wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Harvey flicked Mike gently on the ear. "Language," he said warningly. "Alright, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Mike did his best to avoid meeting Harvey's gaze but Harvey was staring at him with such focus and attention that it was hard to look away. He swallowed nervously. "I was just trying to protect you from getting involved! Because I thought if you found out you'd go beat up Hardman and Tanner…or that you'd go to McKinnon yourself and get caught! And you could get disbarred for that kind of snooping. So I was just trying to help," Mike finished slightly shyly, scuffing his foot on the carpet.

"Mike," Harvey sighed. "I understand that and appreciate it. But we've talked about this before— you tell me about stuff like this and then you let _me_ handle these types of things instead of rushing off and putting yourself in harm's way."

"But I couldn't! Not when I could just help you myself," Mike said. "Are you still going to let me come to Washington D.C. with you?" He asked, worrying his lower lip.

"I don't know. Do you still think you deserve to come?" Harvey asked. He didn't really intend to take the trip away from Mike, but if the threat of that possibility got him to think about his actions then so be it.

Mike winced. "Harvey, I don't regret what I did. And I'd do it again, to be honest. I know that's not what you want to hear, but I can't help it. You've done a lot of things for me the past few months," Mike said, looking away now. "And so if an opportunity comes up for me to return that favor, I'm going to take it. So if you want me to promise I'll never do something like this again, well— I don't think that's a promise I can make. So if you won't let me go to Washington then so be it," he continued, biting his lip in agony at the thought of giving up the trip but determined to keep his resolve.

Harvey sighed, wishing he could consult one of the parenting books that he was most certainly _not _in the middle of reading right now.

"Alright," he said slowly. "You can still come to Washington D.C. if you keep your behavior up for the next few months. I think getting a concussion for your attempts to help me is punishment enough. But just _tell _me next time." There. That seemed reasonable enough.

Mike grinned at this, but Harvey noticed that it seemed a bit forced— Mike's face was pale and his mouth looked unusually taut.

"You need to take that second pill, I know you're still in pain," Harvey said firmly.

Mike just nodded, one hand going up to massage his temples. Harvey quickly went to the kitchen- the pain must have been pretty bad for Mike to actually admit it.

He passed Mike the second pill and waited for him to take it before reaching over and grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and passing it to Mike.

"What's this for?" Mike asked in confusion.

"Well, every time you take a full dose of these pain meds, you either fall asleep or you go out of your head and start rambling. Either way, you might as well be comfortable," Harvey said logically.

Mike scowled. "I do not start rambling! And I can stay awake, I'm not a little kid," he said defensively, taking the blanket nevertheless and burrowing himself in it so that only his face peeked out from the soft material.

"You sang the entirety of '99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall' yesterday," Harvey said pointedly.

"Oh," Mike said pensively, looking startled at this revelation. "Did I really sing the whole thing?"

"I don't know; why don't you ask the neighbors? Several of them came by to complain about the noise. I'm sure they'd be able to tell you more about the experience," Harvey said wryly.

"Well, just because I sang one innocent little song—"

"—for two hours—" Harvey added helpfully.

"— doesn't mean I was 'out of my head,'" Mike claimed defiantly.

"You also cried while watching women's figure skating yesterday," Harvey reminded him casually.

"Hey! That girl had had a rough season, alright? She had a growth spurt and it was throwing off her equilibrium in her jumps and she was thinking of quitting skating altogether. But then she overcame adversity and won the gold anyway," Mike said defensively. "Sorry that I was feeling compassion and sympathy for her plight!"

"You cried," Harvey repeated.

Mike sulked for a while after that— or rather; he sulked for five minutes before passing out into a deep, relaxing sleep on the couch again as Harvey had expected. Harvey just rolled his eyes affectionately, before remembering that this might be the last time Mike fell asleep sprawled on the couch like this. He found that he was hardly able to believe that Mike would only be living here for a week or two more.

His thoughts turned to the trial and he prepared himself for a long night ahead of figuring out what the hell he was going to do with all the information he now possessed— Tanner had buried evidence, Hardman was embezzling the firm's money, and the two of them were working together. What a mess. It was enough to make Harvey want to bang his head against the coffee table a few times. How was he supposed to prove any of this without those reports? He couldn't exactly get a search warrant for McKinnon to look for them— what would he say to the judge? "So, your honor, my 14-year-old ward happened to stumble upon this evidence when he was breaking into the corporate headquarters of the opposing side"? Any attempts at getting a warrant would mean incriminating Mike. He frowned. It was going to be a real problem. He'd just have to focus on the testimony of Edith and the two other key witnesses. He might not have the reports but at least he had the three of them.

Besides, he was Harvey Specter…he didn't _do _losing.

But….he was starting to realize that a lot of the things he had previously thought about himself— that he didn't do caring, or helping troubled teenagers, or pretty much anything else involving Mike— had turned out to not be true over the past few months. So this would be an interesting and revealing trial since the odds were stacked against him. He supposed only time would tell if he'd succeed or not, but he realized as he looked at the sleeping Mike that he had a lot riding on the this trial.

* * *

The morning of the trial was an awful day, in Mike's opinion. It was cold and gray, and the snow was dirty from sitting for a few days. Mike woke up and just wanted to curl back up in a ball and forget any of this was happening. His concussion was basically gone and he had been off of painkillers for a few days, but he still felt terrible. He was nervous and he felt guilty about costing Harvey his chance to unearth the buried reports by being a clumsy idiot. His stomach was in knots and he felt like vomiting.

But he forced himself out of bed for Harvey and Grammy's sake. He stumbled over to the shower where he stood numbly til the water ran cold, hardly believing that after three months of waiting the trial was here and the day when Mike would move back in with Grammy was imminent.

He decided to just focus on the trial for now and worry about the moving-out stuff later. Mike dried off and dressed in what Harvey called "court-appropriate" clothes— slacks and a button-down shirt complemented by (of course) an old skinny tie of his dad's.

He gritted his teeth to face the world and slipped out of his bedroom and into the kitchen where Harvey was making toast and coffee and where…Rachel was.

"Rachel?" Mike asked in bewilderment.

She looked up and smiled broadly at him. Mike saw that she was making scrambled eggs and bacon (something Harvey couldn't quite manage). "Hi, Mike. I just stopped by on my way to school to wish you and Harvey good luck since the trial is starting today."

"Thanks," he said, still surprised. He gratefully accepted a hug from her. Harvey raised an eyebrow at him from where he was standing and Mike tried and failed not to blush.

"Here," she said, piling food onto a plate and shoving it into his eager hands.

"This is delicious," Mike mumbled through a mouthful of hash browns.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you had a decent breakfast. It's going to be a long day. Harvey, do you want some?" Rachel asked politely, taking a plate of her own and sitting down next to Mike at the table, quirking an eyebrow at the panda picture.

"No thanks," Harvey said, gathering up all of his things. "I'm actually leaving now to handle some last minute pre-trial things with the witnesses. Mike, Ray will pick you up in half an hour, okay?"

Mike nodded. "Good luck, Harvey," he said quietly. "If I don't see you before the trial starts."

Harvey just nodded. He passed Mike a cup of coffee and left.

Mike smiled, amazed that Harvey was actually offering him coffee. Normally he was always going on about how it would stunt Mike's growth (although Mike was pretty damn close to Harvey's height after a recent growth spurt). He went to take a sip but his hand brushed against something as he grabbed the mug. He looked down and stared in amazement at the post-it note that was stuck onto the coffee mug. Harvey had obviously put it there, since the note was in his handwriting.

_Don't worry, Mike. Everything will be fine today. Chin up— a good lawyer never backs down._

Mike bit his lip and hastily pulled the post-it note off the mug and gently deposited it into his pocket as a preventative measure before he lost it and did something absurd, like weep over a simple post-it.

"You okay, Mike?" Rachel asked, seeing the odd expression on his face.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "The coffee was hot, that's all." He suddenly felt much less nervous about the trial as he ran his fingers over the note in his pocket.

"So how's your head?" Rachel asked as munched on a strip of bacon.

"It's much better," Mike said. He had told Rachel the whole story of the McKinnon office incident the day before when he had returned to school. "I still feel bad, though. It was my dumb decision to go breaking and entering where I didn't belong without consulting with Harvey first and now Harvey is the one paying the consequences for my stupidity."

Rachel nodded sympathetically. "At least he knows you were just trying to help."

"Yeah, but if he doesn't win this trial because he doesn't have the reports then it'll be my fault. I just wish I would have grabbed them and slipped them into my backpack before I got knocked out," he said, shaking his head self-deprecatingly.

He was feeling pretty miserable, so he didn't expect Rachel's face to break out in a giant grin at this last statement.

"Wait a minute, Mike," she said, her voice hushed with hope and excitement. "Did you read the reports before you got knocked out?"

"Yeah," Mike said slowly, not sure where she was going with this.

"Then you already have the reports!" Rachel exclaimed triumphantly. "In your head! You remember them word for word, right? So you can tell me what they said and I can type them. And then Harvey can use them to get Tanner to admit to burying the evidence— of course they won't be the real reports, but Tanner won't know that and he'll have to admit that he buried the reports when it looks like Harvey's found them and is quoting them directly!"

Mike stared at her for a minute. "Rach…that's _brilliant!_" He exclaimed.

"Come on, let's get started," Rachel said. "I need to get to school _sometime _this morning and you need to get those reports to Harvey."

Mike beamed and grabbed Harvey's laptop off the coffee table. "Are you sure you don't mind typing while I dictate? There's a lot to write."

"Not a problem. Your mind is amazing, Mike, and it's incredible to see it in action," Rachel said, and Mike found himself oddly tempted to kiss her. But he didn't, because the situation was far too time-sensitive and nerve-wracking for Mike to consider trying to have his first kiss.

The two of them exchanged a victorious smile before setting to work. Mike felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he paced around the kitchen and recalled every line, word for word out loud with perfect accuracy. Because thanks to Rachel's idea, they now had a real shot at winning this trial.

* * *

**I hope all the Thanksgiving celebrators out there had a good turkey day! And that all the non-Thanksgiving celebrators had a nice Thursday as well, of course. One of the things I'm really thankful for this year is all of you guys and your kind support :D I can hardly believe it, but this story is starting to wind down—I'm predicting 2 more chapters and then an epilogue and that's it. Hopefully I'll be able to get a lot of writing done in the near future, despite the fact that finals are drawing near. I'm posting this chapter now so that I can proceed to go curl up into a ball of depression over the news that Merlin isn't returning for a sixth season D:**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm baaaack! I'm really sorry for the wait, guys. I got super swamped with finals and then I did a little mini-series about Mike hugging Harvey a lot. Check it out if you want. But anyway, here's chapter 17 and I hope it was worth the wait! Thanks for sticking with me. If you need a reminder of where we left off at the end of the last chapter, Mike and Rachel just made their own copy of the hidden reports that Harvey needed right before the trial.  
**

* * *

**CHAPTER 17: **

_And I would say I love you_

_But saying it out loud is hard_

_So I won't say it at all_

_And I won't stay very long_

_-from "Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens_

"Mr. Tanner," the judge said sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Travis Tanner looked flustered, and Mike fought to keep a grin off his face. He had burst into the courtroom half an hour earlier clutching the copy of the reports that Rachel had made, triumphantly passing the bundle of papers to Harvey before sliding into the seat the Grammy had saved him.

Harvey had then called Tanner up to the stand as a witness and read the reports out loud to the courtroom. Sure enough, Tanner's face had gone ghostly white as soon as Harvey had opened his mouth and began reciting the incriminating phrases verbatim: "…_factory machinery in dangerous state of disrepair…employee injuries may be sustained…not fit for operation…working conditions don't comply with federal law…" _

"Your honor, Mr. Specter clearly got a hold of these reports through some manner of illicit activity. Some type of trespassing," Tanner suggested, looking like he was trying and failing to keep some kind of control over the situation. His fingers were twitching slightly.

The judge arched his eyebrow. "So you admit that the reports existed the whole time and that you hid them away?"

Tanner opened his mouth, realizing his mistake. He looked like he was about to protest vehemently, eyes darting around the courtroom wildly.

"Let me remind you, Mr. Tanner, that you are under oath right now. I suggest that you don't perjure yourself," the judge said sternly.

Tanner froze for a moment, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi truck.

"Yes," Tanner finally admitted quietly, too far backed into a corner to do anything about getting out of the mess he had created. "They were supposed to be shredded! I don't know how he got his hands on them!" He shouted angrily, pointing at Harvey.

The courtroom erupted at this game-changing revelation, and the judge continuously banged his gavel in vain, trying to regain the attention of the various McKinnon employees, witnesses, and reporters gathered there.

Mike accepted a quick hug of celebration from Grammy, who was sitting next to him, and a pat on the back from Henry Morris, who was on his other side. Both were completely cane and walker-free. They were looking robust and healthy, and Mike felt a surge of happiness seep through his veins.

The pandemonium continued on— Mike supposed this_ was _pretty big news. After all, they had been expecting the trial to last weeks or months, not mere hours. Sure, there were still logistics to be figured out, testimony to be given— but McKinnon had lost. There was no way they could come back from this and gain any sort of credibility with the jury after their head lawyer openly admitted to tampering with evidence. Hopefully they'd just come up with a settlement offer now and they could get this whole ordeal over with and put it behind them.

But then Mike realized with a sudden jolt that now that this was over, he was going to move back to the apartment with Grammy, who was glowing with health nowadays. He wasn't sure how to categorize his feelings on the matter— he had really missed seeing Grammy on a daily basis and he was incredibly grateful that she was all better, but at the same time…things were going to change between him and Harvey. No matter what Harvey said about wanting to spend time with him after he moved out, it was still going to be different. Harvey was 30 years old, after all— he probably didn't want to spend his Friday nights watching Star Trek re-runs with a 14-year-old that he had no legal claims on. Sure, he'd probably see Harvey here and there, but it would be weird not eating breakfast and dinner with him, or working on homework at the table while Harvey wrote briefs across from him, the sound of soft jazz in the background.

And Mike didn't like change— after all, changes hadn't done him much good in the past. It had been a change when his parents died; it had been a change when he got sent to live with the Jensens; it had been a change when Grammy had fallen and broken her hip. Sure, change wasn't all bad or anything, but Mike preferred consistency and routine— he had learned that life had a way of messing with things that were important to him, so consistency went a long way in making him feel like he had some tiny semblance of control over his often tumultuous living situation.

And now things had to change again, just when he had gotten used to them being the way they were, dammit!

All of this flashed through his mind in an instant as he sat in the loud courtroom.

"Are you alright, dear?" Grammy asked, seeing the zoned-out look on his previously excited face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to muster up a passable smile.

Grammy looked at him knowingly and opened her mouth to say something, but clearly the judge had had enough at this point. He banged his gavel so hard that it broke and, when it became clear that nobody was paying him any mind, finally bellowed that the court would have an early recess until the following day. He then asked to see Harvey and Tanner in his chambers.

As people began filing out of the courtroom, still chattering loudly, Mike scanned the crowd to find Harvey. His gaze finally settled on the older man, who was busy gathering up files and papers off the table.

As though feeling Mike's eyes on him, Harvey looked up and made eye contact with him. He waved Mike's copy of the reports in Mike's direction and smiled proudly, flashing a thumbs-up in his direction. Mike managed a weak smile in response as Harvey left to go talk to the judge and Tanner about the outcome of the trial after Tanner's confession. And while he knew that they had essentially won the case, he couldn't help but wonder what it was going to cost them as he ran his fingers over the post-it note in his pocket.

* * *

Harvey emerged from the judge's chambers with a broad grin on his face.

The courtroom was basically empty at this point, but he had a small crowd of people waiting for him. Mike, Edith, Henry Morris, George Stanopolous, and Maria Santiago all stood in a small circle, looking at him in anticipation.

"We've reached a settlement!" Harvey proclaimed. "I've talked McKinnon into an offer of $1 million for each of the three of you. They're about to go bankrupt, and they know that the scandal associated with this trial will be their ultimate undoing. So they've been ordered to compensate all factory employees and pay severance so they can last until they get new jobs. Then once they've paid up and settled all their accounts, they'll be declaring bankruptcy and Pfizer, their competitor, will absorb them. So all's well that ends well if the three of you agree to accept the settlement offer," Harvey said. Edith, George, and Maria all nodded instantly, eyes wide with shock.

"_A million dollars," _George breathed in disbelief. "I'll be able to retire and pay for all my grandchildren to go to college."

Maria was crying at this point. "I'll finally be able to pay for my sister and her family to move here from Puerto Rico," she said happily.

Edith just smiled and hugged Mike close. Mike knew that they were both thinking the same thing: no more struggling to put food on the table or worrying about the electricity getting cut off. And they'd be able to pay off Grammy's extensive medical bills! Money wasn't everything, but it certainly helped. Now Mike wouldn't have to worry about paying his way through college and supporting Grammy at the same time.

"I accept the offer," Edith said, and George and Maria voiced their agreement as well.

"Great," Harvey said, looking pleased with himself. "That's all settled, then. We'll have to talk about the specific details later, of course, but for now let's all go out to dinner to celebrate!"

And go out to dinner, they did. They went somewhere ridiculously nice and expensive and Pearson Hardman-y and everyone laughed and talked freely as delicious food and wine flowed around them in a happy swirl of motion. Mike sat quietly sandwiched between Harvey and Grammy, watching and listening to everyone around him and picking at his food until Harvey and Grammy nagged him to eat more. He couldn't help but think that he should be feeling a lot happier as he looked at the smiling faces surrounding him. Instead he sat and thought about the fact that this was the last meal he'd eat with Harvey as his guardian.

When they were finished at the restaurant, the bill paid in full by Harvey's Pearson Hardman credit card, Mike turned expectantly to Grammy.

"Am I coming home with you tonight?" He asked, trying not to let any sort of emotion seep into his voice. After all, it was Grammy's first night out of the nursing home and Mike wasn't sure she should be left alone.

Grammy took one look at Mike's expression and smiled softly. "That's up to you, Michael. Henry Morris is driving me back to the apartment and he'll make sure that I get inside safely. So you can decide for yourself if you want to come home tonight or wait until tomorrow, dear."

Mike was trying to make up his mind when Harvey interceded and made the decision for both of them. "Why don't you come back to my apartment tonight, Mike?" He said hastily, resting a hand on Mike's shoulder. "After all, you still need to pack all of your things since we didn't know the trial would be over this quickly. And before you pack I'll have to do laundry. So maybe it's best if you take your time and move out tomorrow. Think you can survive one last night with me?"

Mike looked to Grammy for approval and when she nodded, an oddly sad smile on her face, Mike in turn nodded to Harvey. He was grateful to have one last night before facing the reality of moving out.

And if Mike was strangely quiet that night as Harvey puttered around doing laundry while Mike watched X-men on the couch, Harvey didn't comment on it. When the movie was over he came and sat down on the sofa next to Mike.

"That was a brilliant idea that you and Rachel had, Mike," Harvey said. "Without your memory of those records, it would have been a much longer, bloodier trial, that's for sure. So thank you. You'll be a good lawyer one day, kid."

Ordinarily Mike would have been over the moon to receive praise like that. But he couldn't help but wish that the trial had lasted a little longer, even though he was glad they had reached a profitable settlement. So he just settled on grinning weakly in Harvey's direction. But Harvey seemed determined to get a real smile out of him.

"You're still welcome to come by the office to help me out after school, you know," he said casually.

Mike just shrugged. He knew he wouldn't be going to Pearson Hardman much. It was too hard to go there and hang out like normal and then not get to go back to the apartment after.

"Big day tomorrow, huh? You excited to be back with your grandmother?" Harvey queried, nudging Mike's with his shoulder.

"Yeah," Mike said, smiling slightly. Because he _was _genuinely excited to be moving back in with Grammy. He just wished he didn't feel so conflicted about leaving the apartment.

"Then stop moping," Harvey chided lightly. "Come on, it's our last night. You want to watch a movie?"

"Nah," Mike said, wanting to do something more interactive than watch TV. Harvey looked a little hurt for a second. "Let's go up to the roof instead."

Harvey brightened a bit at this idea. "You get your jacket and I'll get the coffee," he said, and they went their separate ways. Mike found himself grateful for this last night, because it afforded him one more opportunity to pretend to be the carefree kid that he so desperately wanted to be— just hanging out with someone who cared about him, no responsibilities— instead of being the man of the house who had to be strong and look out for Grammy. And, as he and Harvey sat on the roof one last time making up ridiculous stories about the people walking below them on the streets, he suspected that Harvey liked having someone to look after.

Mike wondered if Harvey would miss this even a tiny bit as much as he would.

* * *

"Okay, well, I guess that's everything," Mike said quietly as he hefted his heavy backpack onto his shoulders and struggled with the zipper on his duffel bag for a moment before emerging victorious over the troublesome piece of metal.

Harvey just nodded and picked up Mike's duffel bag as though it weighed less than a piece of paper. Mike looked around the office one last time, wondering if he should say something profound and clever about the time he had spent in this room. But the only thing he could think of to potentially say was "goodbye, dear office-bedroom," and he got the distinct impression that that would earn him an eye roll and a cuff on the back of the head from Harvey. And besides, this didn't seem to be a time of grand speeches for Harvey or Mike. Instead, they stood in reflective silence, neither of them daring to say what was on their minds.

For example, neither of them mentioned the fact that Mike had packed Harvey's Harvard sweatshirt in his duffel bag, although Harvey had witnessed Mike stealing it out of the laundry pile earlier. And neither of them pointed out the fact that Mike had left the bed unmade like he always did; like he was just going to crawl back into its comfortable mess that night like it was any other night of the past 3 months. Nobody moved to take Mike's report card (proudly displaying all A+s) off the fridge. And neither of them did anything about getting rid of all the post-its that Mike had put up in the kitchen when he wanted to list all the food that they didn't have (for some reason he was always requesting different types of ice cream) or scrawl a quick note mentioning that he was leaving to go visit Edith or hit up the library.

Yes, neither of them was feeling particularly talkative at the moment, in spite of their massive victory in court yesterday. Or in spite of the fact that Mike was moving out. It was an occasion that they both were initially counting down to 3 months ago. But somewhere along the way, between takeout, case files, and Lord of the Rings marathons, that all changed. And now Mike was having a hard time imagining life outside of the apartment. Just as it had all become familiar and safe to him, it was time for him to leave. And he was thrilled to get to live with Grammy again, he really was. But he also realized that he kept having to remind himself of that fact, and that it was starting to sound a little forced to his own ears. Because Grammy was an incredible woman— she loved Mike to death and she was always on his side doing what was best for him— but Harvey _understood _Mike in a way that he wasn't sure anyone else did.

And suddenly Mike realized that he was angry at himself for letting it get to this point. He should have guarded himself and his heart better, because everything Harvey had done for him, like teaching him to throw a football better, taking care of him when he had pneumonia and a concussion— hell, last week Harvey had even mentioned something about teaching Mike to shave— it all just made him realize what he was missing out on since the death of his parents. And more specifically, what he was missing out on since he didn't have a father (Grammy did a pretty good job of playing mother, but there were some things that she just couldn't help a teenage boy with). And it wasn't fair. Mike realized that he was also angry at Harvey for letting their relationship progress to this point of no return. _Harvey_, who could read people and who understood that Mike was really just a vulnerable kid who wanted a parent in his life. Maybe it meant nothing to Harvey, but it had all meant a lot to Mike and Harvey should have known that because Harvey knew Mike.

Because at the heart of the matter, what Mike was _really _angry about was that Harvey had done all of these things but he didn't seem to want to keep Mike. And that hurt. All that Mike wanted was for Harvey to say that he'd miss him— or even better; ask Mike to stay. He wouldn't, not with Grammy to worry about. But it'd be nice to hear the words; to know that he wasn't alone in these sentiments and that he wasn't making this up from some deluded fantasy of orphan-dom. But Harvey didn't say anything as they left the apartment and headed out to the car. So neither did Mike.

* * *

Harvey wished Mike would say something.

Instead, the teenager just sat silently as they drove through Manhattan, watching the neighborhoods change and steadily decline.

When they pulled up in front of Edith and Mike's shoddy apartment building, Harvey had the urge to turn right around and drive back to his own place. Every guardian-like instinct he now possessed was nudging at him to get Mike and Edith away from this run-down building and into a nicer neighborhood. As Harvey followed Mike into the building, pointedly glaring a heavily tattooed and pierced youth who was hungrily eying his sports car, he at least felt somewhat comforted by the fact that the money from the settlement would allow Mike and Edith to be able to move to a better neighborhood once they paid off all their debts and medical bills— maybe they'd even buy a proper house soon.

When they got upstairs, Mike pushed open the door to his home, holding it open for Harvey to follow.

It was a very Edith-and-Mikeish living space. There were pictures of the two of them together decorating the walls, a couple of framed school photographs of Mike at various ages, and a few snapshots of a blond couple that were quite obviously Mike's parents. Harvey eyed these rare snapshots curiously, interested to learn more about the people who had brought Mike into the world and loved him and cared for him first before Edith had come around.

"Michael! Harvey! Good to see you both," Edith said, emerging from the kitchen, Henry Morris behind her. Harvey wondered slightly at the amount of time the two of them seemed to spend together, but it really wasn't any of his business. "Michael, why don't you show Harvey your room so he can put that heavy duffel bag down?"

"Oh— right," Mike said upon realizing that Harvey was still holding all his stuff. "It's this door over here," Mike said, leading Harvey over past the kitchen and into the hallway.

Harvey stepped inside a small bedroom and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. "Yep, this is your room alright. Let's see—I _think _there must be a bed here somewhere under all of this stuff," he said in a tone that probably would have been extremely derisive and condescending 3 months ago but really just sounded vaguely fond now.

Mike had the good grace to blush slightly. "Sorry about the mess. I left in kind of a hurry. You can put that down wherever."

Harvey rolled his eyes and placed the duffel bag between piles of books and clothes in a relatively open spot. His fingers twitched with the nervous urge to clean and he cursed all the domestic habits he had acquired over the past few months. They would be hard to break now.

"Well, um, I guess this is it," Mike said quietly. "Thanks for everything. Really, Harvey. Not many people would open their home to a teenager for three months. So thank you. You'll be a good dad someday," he said with a slightly strained voice, his heart aching sharply at the thought of a future Harvey calling some faceless boy his son, loving him and teaching him to play catch and, when he was older, bringing him to Pearson Hardman to teach him how to be a lawyer. He swallowed hard. If Harvey had a kid someday, he'd probably be the perfect son. Not dorky and unathletic and too smart for his own good and somewhat emotionally damaged like Mike.

"Mike," Harvey said seriously, stepping forward and placing gentle hands on Mike's shoulders. "It wasn't a problem. You deserve a good home and I'm glad I could provide one while your grandmother couldn't."

Mike's eyes were dangerously watery now, so he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Harvey in a sudden embrace to hide that fact. "Bye, Harvey," he mumbled into Harvey's neck in a choked voice. He pulled away quickly and headed into the kitchen where Grammy and Henry Morris were waiting, firmly instructing himself to get it together and stop being a baby. After all, it was wrong for him to feel sad like this. Harvey wasn't his dad. He had no claims on the older man, and it was stupid to feel jealous of a kid who wasn't even born yet. Just because Harvey couldn't be his father didn't mean that he should hate the fact that Harvey might one day get married and have his own family and be a father to someone who really belonged to him.

"Harvey, are you staying for dinner?" Edith called from the kitchen.

Harvey, who was rather bewildered by Mike's sudden embrace and departure from the bedroom, decided he should probably get going. After all, Mike was probably overjoyed to be back with his grandmother, and he probably didn't want Harvey hanging around anymore while he was reunited with Edith and transitioning back into his old living arrangement.

"No, thanks, Edith," Harvey said, wandering over to the kitchen. Mike was sitting at the table next to Henry Morris, peeling potatoes. He was oddly quiet—normally this was Mike's most talkative time of the day. He'd ramble on and on about what he'd done that day while he and Harvey attempted to scrounge together some kind of dinner. But now he just sat silently, peeling the potatoes with a ferocity that made Harvey raise his eyebrows. "I've got a lot of post-trial work that I should probably get started on—the official terms of the settlement still have to be drawn up. I'll probably be back over here about a week from now once everything is approved to have you sign things, Edith. But for now, all your work is done. You just sit back and let me handle the rest."

"Are you sure you won't stay, dear?" Edith asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. "We owe you so much. A home-cooked meal is the least I can do."

Harvey eyed Mike, who was now aggressively hacking the skin off of a cucumber with the peeler. "I'd love to, but I really have to go," he excused himself.

"Well, if you're certain," Edith sighed. "But just a rain check, understood, young man? You can eat with us next week when you bring the papers."

She clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer, and it _was _a nice gesture.

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "Mike," he called. Mike looked up, his hands pausing in their angry motions. His eyes looked a bit wet, but that was probably from the onion that Henry Morris was slicing across the table.

"I meant what I said earlier about coming to the office. I hope I'll see you at Pearson Hardman some day after school this week," he said, trying not to sound demanding. He wanted to see the kid, of course, but he didn't want to force him to spend time with Harvey when he was probably relieved to be back living with his grandmother.

Mike smiled weakly. "Sounds good," he said unconvincingly. Henry Morris passed him another cucumber and the peeling frenzy began anew as Harvey left the apartment and headed back to his own, significantly-quieter-than-usual condo.

* * *

Mike didn't show up at Pearson Hardman that week. And he wasn't there the following Wednesday when Harvey stopped by the apartment for the evening to have dinner and give Edith the opportunity sign the official settlement papers.

* * *

"You're in a lovely mood today," Donna said over the intercom as Harvey sent the third trembling associate of the morning away after yelling at them so much that they cried.

"I hope that's sarcasm, Donna," Harvey bit out angrily over the intercom. Donna shrugged innocently. "Why is everyone around here so incompetent?" Harvey asked sharply. "I just need one associate who can find me the goddamn precedent that I need for the Nantes trial. Is that so much to ask for?!" He sighed and rubbed at his forehead where a nasty headache was brewing. He was having an exhausting week, despite the fact that he had had a major win in court a few days ago. One would think that this would entitle him to some time off, but _no._ There was still plenty to do—he was currently in the middle the spectacular mess that was the Nantes trial and was all the while attempting to convince Ralph Kafka to testify that Hardman and Tanner had planted that evidence. He had told Jessica that Hardman was embezzling money and was planning on framing Harvey for it, but she wanted to hold onto the information and wait until they had cold hard evidence to do anything with it. And naturally, it fell on Harvey's shoulders to find said evidence. So he was working to convince McKinnon's angriest security guard to step forward and help out Harvey (whom he was not particularly fond of) and admit that he had seen the two rival lawyers sneaking around McKinnon and hiding documents late at night.

Nobody else was currently in the midst of so many things, so Harvey felt he was entitled to shout at the associates a bit if he wanted to.

"Would you stop yelling? It's unprofessional. And boring. Boring people yell, Harvey," Donna said in an infuriatingly calm voice that made Harvey want to throw things. "Come on, just admit it. You miss Mike. You know that he would have already found that precedent ages ago and that he would have done it all in his adorable I'm-an-abandoned-puppy-please-take-me-in sort of way instead of being an idiot like those Harvard clones."

"I don't miss him," Harvey responded, automatically defensive.

"Oh, sure. You don't miss him at all," Donna drawled sarcastically. "I mean, it's not like you look up hopefully anytime someone walks by your office, right? And you definitely didn't buy the type of chips Mike likes and put them in the break room in case he comes by, of course. And if I stopped by your apartment, there's no chance that the office would still be set up as a second bedroom instead of an office like it used to be, am I right?"

"Stop it, Donna," Harvey said flatly.

"Oh, Harvey," Donna sighed sadly. "There's nothing wrong with missing Mike. He was a major part of your life for three months, and you got attached to him. Now he's not around every day and you don't know what your role in his life is anymore. It's okay. I miss him, and I know you do too. Would it really hurt you that badly to admit it?"

"It might," Harvey said seriously. "Donna, there's a reason why Mike hasn't come to the office like I asked—he obviously doesn't _want _to. And he was avoiding me when I brought the papers to his and Edith's apartment. He doesn't have debate on Wednesdays, despite whatever excuse he might have given Edith. He's intentionally avoiding me. But that's okay because that's his choice and I respect that. But it _is _hard for me, okay? So stop making fun of me."

"Oh, Harvey," Donna said quietly. "I'm not making fun of you. And I think you're wrong about why Mike hasn't stopped by. Have you thought about the fact that he's probably having just as hard of a time as you are adjusting to this? I'd bet that he's scared to reach out now that you're not obligated to take care of him. You know Mike; you know he's afraid of rejection."

"I guess I hadn't really thought about that," Harvey admitted, losing steam slightly.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Donna asked in a rallying tone.

"I'm going to track him down and talk to him, obviously," Harvey said as though talking to a kindergartener. "Honestly, Donna, where would you be without me around to spell everything out for you?" Harvey sighed magnanimously, buoyed by this sudden flash of insight he had come up with.

"Without _you _to spell everything out for _me_?" Donna asked incredulously. "I hope that's a joke," she said, gearing up be Scary Donna if she needed to.

But Harvey didn't respond and the intercom line was dead. When Donna glanced over the top of her desk and into Harvey's office, she could see that he had disconnected the intercom cord, which he only did when he was absorbed in Serious Thinking Time. He was pacing back and forth, deep in thought, hopefully thinking of a way to reach out to Mike. Donna sighed and returned to her work. _Boys._

* * *

Mike was having a hard time.

He honestly loved being back with Grammy— in a lot of ways, it was just like it used to be. They fell easily back into their old patterns: the two of them would cook together and eat dinner together and Grammy would knit or sew on the couch while Mike did his homework. Retirement suited Grammy well. Oftentimes Henry Morris joined them and it was almost like when his grandpa used to be alive.

But he missed Harvey all the same. And he wanted to go see Harvey, he really did. At the same time, however, he knew that it would just make him miss Harvey even more if he spent time with the lawyer but then had to leave after. He kept reminding himself that Harvey wasn't his father and that he had no right to feel this way. It was strange that he missed something that he'd never really even had with the older man. But all things considered, it was probably best to just cut things off cold turkey with Harvey.

Grammy was worried, he could tell. She often asked him if he was planning on stopping by Pearson Hardman after school that day, and she always looked disappointed when he came home right after school instead. Mike knew that she thought that Harvey was a good influence on him and that he should spend as much time with his former guardian as possible. But Wednesday evening when he had gotten home from school and seen Harvey's car parked in the visitor parking of their apartment complex, he had immediately turned around and ridden his bike to the public library where he had spent the evening reading the densest legal texts he could find to distract himself. He told Grammy later that he had had an important debate meeting, but she hadn't seemed convinced.

He had ridden his bike past Pearson Hardman a couple of times after school and had been _so close _to going in and running up to Harvey's office and fixing everything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What if Harvey didn't want to spend time with Mike now that he had no legal responsibility to do so? Or worse, what if Harvey acted like everything was fine between them and like he wanted to spend time with Mike, but was really just putting up with Mike's continued presence out of some misplaced sense of obligation and not because he wanted to? Mike didn't want to be a burden to Harvey, and he didn't want to be rejected either. So he just stayed away and tried to put on a brave front for Grammy.

Apparently he didn't have a very good poker face, however, because Grammy seemed to have had enough after two weeks of Mike moping around the apartment. He entered the kitchen for dinner one night, and the first warning sign that something was up was that Henry Morris wasn't present, which was highly unusual these days. Then he noticed that Grammy looked uncharacteristically serious. And she had cooked his favorite meal. Mike swallowed anxiously. What was going on?

"Michael," Grammy said. "Sit down. We need to have a talk."

* * *

**Dun dun dun. What does Grammy want to talk about? Sorry if the trial seemed anti-climactic, but that was never really supposed to be the focus of the story; Mike and Harvey are. Maybe a million dollars seems like a shit ton of money, but I really have no clue how much settlements are and to be fair it was supposed to be a high profile case? Anyway, I'm on break so hopefully I'll have a lot of time to write and I'll be able to get the next (last!) chapter out soon. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Lol so I know I said that this would be the last chapter but…surprise, it's not! Sorry, but as it wound up, it seemed to flow much more organically to divide this last part into 2 different chapters, and I didn't want to rush the ending. But fear not! I have plenty of time to write nowadays, so I won't leave you hanging for too long. I'll get the other part up soon, and I promise you it'll be the **_**real **_**last one XD And I know I don't say this nearly enough, but thank you so much to anyone who's been reading/reviewing/favoriting/following. Your support makes my job of writing this much easier :D  
**

* * *

**CHAPTER 18:**

_When the time comes_

_And you have to let me go  
_

_I will leave without a sound  
_

_If you let me down easy  
_

_-From "Easy" by Justin Vernon  
_

"Michael," Grammy said. "Sit down. We need to have a talk."

"Er—okay. Have I done something wrong?" Mike asked cautiously, immediately wracking his brain to think of things he had done recently that he could potentially be in trouble for.

"No, no. Not at all. Relax, dear. I just want to talk to you," Grammy said comfortingly.

Mike sat down nervously on the edge of his chair, not much appeased. His found that his appetite was suddenly gone.

"Go on, have some food. You're skin and bones what with this recent growth spurt you've had. Come on, we don't want you to waste away while I talk now, dear," Grammy encouraged. Mike tentatively dished himself some of his Grammy's famous homemade lasagna. He took a small bite and then poked at the rest a bit so that it would look like he had eaten more.

"Okay, I'm eating, you can talk now," Mike said politely, hoping Grammy would get a move on and tell him what was up.

Grammy sighed concernedly as she looked at the barely touched food. Mike had a bad feeling about where this conversation was about to go. "Have you been sleeping alright, dear? You always look tired these days. Is anything going on?" Well, that was a roundabout way of addressing the issue, but Mike knew what Grammy was getting at. Naturally, he feigned ignorance and denied everything.

"What do you mean? I'm fine," Mike attempted to say this brazenly, but it sounded unconvincing and pitiful even to his own ears.

"Harvey called me today to ask if you were okay," Grammy said, cutting to the chase. "I missed it, so I called him back and left a message telling him that I didn't know why you hadn't been around and that I'd talk to you about it. And I invited him over for dinner next week." Mike looked away guiltily at this. He knew he shouldn't avoid Harvey; after all, it wasn't like Harvey had done anything wrong. But besides the guilt, he couldn't help but feel a warm flicker of happiness that Harvey was concerned about Mike and his whereabouts. And nervous at the potential of dinner with Harvey next week.

"Er, yeah, I haven't really had time to see him lately. I've been really busy, doing…you know…" Mike said fumblingly, gesturing broadly around the apartment and hoping Grammy would accept this pathetic response.

Grammy's lips twitched upward. "Doing what? Certainly not cleaning your room," she said in a tone of gentle admonishment. Mike had the good grace to blush slightly.

"Yeah, you know, I've been busy. With, um, school and stuff. Hard classes. High school stuff," he shrugged.

"Michael Ross, you've never had a 'hard class' in your entire life," Grammy declared. "Now come on, dear. It's okay to admit that you're having a hard time adjusting to living with me again. What you had..._have_ with Harvey is special, and it won't hurt my feelings if you admit that you enjoyed living with him. I just want you to be happy."

Mike shrugged rather unhappily. "Yeah, sure, I guess I might miss him," he said nonchalantly as though it wasn't a big deal. "But just a little!" He qualified defensively. "And I_ told _you, I've just been too busy to go to Pearson Hardman, Grammy. That's it. Can we please not talk about this anymore?" He said, fighting to keep his temper in check. He knew that Grammy only wanted what was best for him, but he was afraid she'd make him do something embarrassing, like call Harvey to talk about his feelings or something awful like that.

Grammy seemed conflicted, but she seemed to sense that Mike was just going to shut down if she continued pressuring him in this vein. "Alright," she said. "The other thing I want to talk to you about is Henry Morris."

"Oh," Mike said in pleased surprise. That was a much better topic than Harvey. Feeling much better about where this talk was heading now, Mike began eating his lasagna with much more gusto than before. "Okay. What about Henry Morris? Where's he at, anyway?" Mike asked through a mouthful of delicious Italian food.

"How do you feel about Henry Morris, dear?" Grammy asked, and Mike thought she looked a little nervous for some reason, but he couldn't fathom why.

"Henry Morris? Yeah, um, he's great," Mike answered, wondering why she was asking him these things. "He lets me borrow his old books and talks to me about history. Cool guy," Mike said, shrugging. "Why are you asking me about him? Wait, did you guys have a fight or something?" He asked worriedly. Had Grammy had a falling out with Henry Morris and been upset and Mike hadn't even noticed? He felt like a horrible grandson. Just because he was having a rough time didn't mean that he should only think about himself and his own problems. Especially when this was the first time that Grammy had had a good friend in ages—she hadn't had much time for socializing since Mike's parents died and she started working for McKinnon. It would be terrible for her to lose his friendship…

"What? No, no, nothing of the sort," Grammy said reassuringly upon seeing Mike's concern. However, she definitely looked apprehensive now and Mike frowned in confusion.

"Okay then," he said slowly, taking another large bite of lasagna.

"Actually," Grammy said casually, "Henry Morris asked me to marry him."

Mike choked on his lasagna.

"And I said yes," Grammy said, smiling beatifically and thumping Mike on the back.

Mike coughed and swallowed with great difficulty, completely agog. "Sorry— he…he _what?! _And you said _what?!" _He gaped at her incredulously.

"You heard me, dear. Henry asked me to marry him," Grammy responded calmly. "I told him yes, but I also said that I needed to talk to you about it and get your approval before we made any sort of plans for a wedding. And if you're not okay with this, then of course I'll call it off and Henry and I can take things much more slowly until you're ready. And if you're never ready, that's okay, too. You come first and we both just want you to be happy."

"_What the—oh my god—I can't believe this—" _Mike sputtered desperately for a minute before finally managing to string a cogent question together. "How long has this been going on?! Have I just been completely blind?!"

"No, it's fairly recent," Grammy said, smiling in a way that made Mike want to smile back. She was practically glowing, he realized, and had been for days. "We were very good friends after our time in the nursing home, but I think we were always attracted to each other and had deeper feelings for one another," Grammy explained casually. Mike scrunched up his face in displeasure at the thought of his grandmother being _attracted _to someone and Having Feelings for Someone.

"Anyway, that night after the trial when you were at Harvey's one last time, Henry and I were talking about what I was going to do now that we're both out of the nursing home and I'm retired, and he said that he had fallen in love with me. And I told him that I felt the same way, and then he kissed me—"

"Eww," Mike interjected before he could stop himself, barely resisting the urge to leap to his feet and bang his head against the wall until he got the image of his grandmother and Henry Morris kissing out of his mind forever. "Er, I mean, _wow. _That's, um, pretty romantic," he amended hastily when Grammy looked at him oddly.

"— as I was about to say before you interrupted, he kissed me_ on the cheek,_" Grammy said in fond exasperation as Mike heaved a sigh of relief. "And he asked me to marry him!" Grammy actually _giggled _at this, and Mike couldn't help but think that she clearly had it really bad for Henry Morris. Grammy _never _giggled. "And I said yes." Another happy little laugh. "So what do you think?"

"Just give me a minute to wrap my mind around this," Mike said, chewing on his lower lip. He had no problem with Henry Morris, and he quite liked the guy, in fact. But he had only ever thought of him as Grammy's friend, and not as Grammy's potential husband. Or his potential step-grandfather. It was a lot to take in at once.

He looked up at Grammy and noticed the way she was still smiling, peaceful and radiant in a way that he hadn't seen for a long time. "He makes you happy, yeah?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Grammy said, smiling even wider and looking much younger than 70.

Mike felt his face break out into an answering grin of its own volition. "You're right," he said, feeling inexplicably cheerful. "He _does_ make you happy. I haven't seen you smile like that since Grandpa and Mom and Dad were still alive," Mike said. It was the first time ever that mentioning his deceased family members by name didn't send a stab of pain through his chest.

"Michael, dear," Grammy said, reaching out and gently taking hold of his hand. "Be completely honest. Would you be alright with the idea of Henry Morris and I getting married?"

Mike beamed at her. Now that she had planted the idea of the two of them married in his mind, he already couldn't imagine it any other way. It just seemed _right, _based on the easy manner Mike had watched the two of them interact in for the past 3 months_. _And Grammy deserved someone who would make her happy like Henry Morris did. He knew that she was often lonely since Grandpa had died, and since he'd be going off to college in a few years anyway, this seemed like perfect timing.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, laughing. "Yes, that's great! You two are going to get married!"

Grammy swept him up into a hug and then fluttered away, wiping happy tears from her cheeks. She came back to the kitchen wielding a massive red velvet cake, which Mike eyed with slight suspicion.

"Did you strategically make my favorite types of food to buy my support of your marriage?" Mike asked curiously. If she did, he didn't really mind. Red velvet cake was red velvet cake, after all.

"I would never!" Grammy exclaimed in mock offense. "No; it's a special occasion, so we need cake, naturally. Although, to be honest…there's more news besides just the wedding. Bigger news. I hate to dump more on you when you've just had a shock, but I think it's best to get everything out in the open at once."

Mike frowned over his piece of cake. "What do you mean; more news besides the wedding? What _more _could there be?" He asked, fervently praying that she wasn't about to announce that she and Henry Morris were going to adopt a baby once they got married or something.

"Well…this isn't official or anything. I told Henry that I'd have to talk it over with you and see what you thought. So if you're not okay with this, absolutely no hard feelings. We'll call it all off, no questions asked, understood?"

"What is it?" Mike asked, eyes wide. He tried to imagine what she had to tell him that could be bigger than the news of her sudden romance with Henry Morris, but he wasn't coming up with anything.

"Well," Grammy said cautiously. "Henry's younger sister Barbara just turned 65 and she and her husband are retiring. And they recently bought a beach house in Florida and they've invited Henry and I to go stay there."

"Oh," Mike said, relieved. "That's it? Well, that sounds like fun. What, are you going to go there as some sort of honeymoon?"

"No," Grammy responded slowly. "It would be more of a—a permanent thing. If we wanted it to be, that is. There are lots of retired folks who do it, you know. Go down south for the winter…although, to be honest, we'd probably stay down there for much of the fall and the early spring too. But we'd come back for summer, of course. Fortunately money isn't much of an issue now, so we can travel at will if we want to," Grammy added quickly in a cheerful tone that seemed manufactured for Mike's benefit.

"Wow," Mike said, feeling as though he had just been clubbed over the head repeatedly with a blunt object. _Moving to Florida. _This was a lot to process. "Wow. Um, can I ask why?"

"Of course, honey. To be honest, one of the main reasons is that the doctor recommended it. My hip is much better, but the cold _does_ trouble it something awful; and I'm starting to get bad pain in my hands more often from arthritis. The doctor and the physical therapist both seem to think a southern environment would be much more suitable to my medical needs."

"So you want me to move to Florida and go to school there, and then we'd come back here for the summer?" Mike asked, confused about his role in this hypothetical arrangement.

"Well, that's certainly one of our options," Grammy said. "Of course, we could just stay in New York year round if you want to. I would completely understand if you didn't want to leave."

"No!" Mike exclaimed, instantly dismissing this second option. "Don't be silly, Grammy. It's not worth it to risk your health. You should be somewhere where you won't be in pain, and it sounds like Florida is the place for you." Much as it pained him to think about moving away his birthplace and abandoning any reminders of his parents and his childhood, Grammy's health now was far more important than memories of a past that he couldn't change.

"There _is _a third option, you know," Grammy said. "You could stay here while we were in Florida, you know. Of course, the viability of that option really depends on someone outside of you and Henry and I, doesn't it?"

Mike frowned, trying to make sense of Grammy's cryptic speech. "Oh," he finally said as it dawned on him. "_Oh. _You…you think I should stay here and live with Harvey during the school year and then stay with you when you visit for the summer?"

"Well, it makes the most sense from a logistical point of view. Now that we have some money, you could afford to enroll in NYU as an undergraduate student part-time next year if you wanted to. I know that they have special programs for gifted teenagers, and we both know that you don't really need to be in high school anymore if you don't want to," Grammy said, and then her face turned sad. "But that's from a logistical point of view. From a grandmother's point of view, I would miss you very, very much if you stayed here. But I want what's best for you all the same, and I feel like it should be your decision."

"It's not my decision, though," Mike said. "It's Harvey's. What if he doesn't want me, Grammy?" He asked quietly, finally voicing the deep fears that had haunted the dark recesses of his mind the past few weeks, barely allowing himself to feel the seeds of hope that were burgeoning in his chest against his will at the thought of moving back in with Harvey.

"Oh, Michael," Grammy said, taking hold of his hands and squeezing gently. "I suppose I can't really say for certain. But if I had to bet a million dollars on it," she chuckled dryly, no doubt at the fact that she _could _bet a million dollars now, "I would bet that he would want you to stay with him. But you're going to have to talk to him about it if that's the option you want to choose. You and I sitting here and speculating won't amount to anything in the end. I can't tell you how he feels."

"I can't face him, Grammy," Mike said, irrationally terrified at the prospect. "I don't think I'll be able to sit there and explain all of this to him. What if he says 'no' flat-out? I don't know if I could handle it, Grammy. And I'm not even sure if I want to stay here in New York. I've just gotten back to living with you and I don't want to give it up again. But at the same time I really want to live with Harvey. I just don't know what to do!" Mike exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in a frenzy.

"Relax, dear," Grammy said soothingly, patting him on the cheek. "I'll give him a call and explain the situation to him. Then you can go talk to him tomorrow once you've both had some time to think it over. Nobody has to make any hasty decisions, and it'll all work out one way or the other. Okay?"

Mike nodded, but his stomach was still churning with nerves. "Okay," he said, his voice small. He jumped up and began taking all the dishes to the sink to wash them, just to give his anxious hands something to do.

Grammy looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry to put all this on your plate, Michael. You've had to make a lot of tough decisions for someone so young, and I want you to know that I'm proud of you for how well you've always handled everything, particularly the past 3 months."

"Thanks," Mike said numbly, scrubbing furiously at a cup.

Grammy stood. "I'll go call Harvey, okay, honey?"

"Okay," Mike said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He told himself to put the matter from his mind and think about something else while Grammy was gone, but it didn't really work out that way. Instead he stood at the sink at rubbed at the same spot on a plate over and over again while thinking about all the disastrous ways that his talk with Harvey could go.

Grammy re-entered the kitchen a strangely short time later. Mike looked up at her expectantly. "Well?" He asked, feeling like he might explode if she didn't immediately tell him every single detail of her conversation with Harvey—his reactions, the tone of his voice, _anything _that would indicate how he felt about the idea of Mike living with him again on a permanent basis.

"He didn't answer," she said. "But I left him a message explaining everything. Okay, dear?"

Mike nodded, suddenly lightning-struck by the desire to see Harvey and talk this all out once and for all. "I have to go see him," he declared abruptly, wiping his wet hands on a dish towel and dumping out the soapy water with aggressive, over-eager motions.

"What? Michael, it's already dark out. Why don't you just wait until tomorrow?" Grammy asked, her forehead wrinkling in concern.

But Mike shook his head, already heading to the foyer to grab his coat and helmet. "I have to talk to him tonight, Grammy. I'll never be able to sleep with this hanging over my head, and I'm tired of running away. I just want to know, one way or the other, if Harvey wants me in his life. So I'm going to go find out," Mike said determinedly, a burst of nervous energy flooding through his veins.

Grammy opened her mouth, probably to protest. But she stopped short when she saw the charged expression on Mike's face, and she nodded slowly. "Be careful, dear. You know you can call me at any time if you need me, right?" Mike could see in her face that she was worried that this was going to end messily and that she was going to have to pick up the broken pieces of Mike's heart that might result from this talk with Harvey. He swallowed with some difficulty.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Grammy. I just want to _know, _you know? I'll be back later," Mike said, accepting a warm embrace from his grandmother. He was tempted to just stay her arms and shut out the world and pretend that everything was okay, but he was fourteen now, and he had to be grown-up and deal with this on his own. Grammy wouldn't always be around to hold his hand…especially if she lived in Florida and he lived here in New York. He gave her an extra tight squeeze before letting go and swiped at his eyes. Even if Harvey said that he wanted Mike to live with him (Mike could barely even allow himself to think the words for fear he'd jinx any chance he had of getting the older man to accept him), Mike would still be inevitably forced to make a very tough decision between living with his grandmother and his former guardian. He sighed and figured he'd just have to deal with it when the time came to make the choice. He wondered if he'd ever have normal teenage problems.

After bidding Grammy farewell, he ducked out of the apartment and into the cold. He figured he'd try Pearson Hardman first, since it was barely 8 o'clock. He was under the impression that Harvey tended to work at the office much later when Mike wasn't around—that's what he had done at the beginning of his guardianship, and what he had done when he was doing that ridiculous 'I'm-going-to-avoid-Mike-in-order-to-protect-him' thing.

The bike ride passed in a chilly blur, but Mike didn't mind. The bitter cold distracted him from the nerves jangling in his stomach and rattling around in his brain. He had lost plenty of people before, but that was always due to natural causes. Now, facing the possible threat of losing someone who simply didn't _want _him, he found himself completely terrified. Because the truth was, Harvey represented everything that Mike wanted but hadn't had since his parents died. And he had allowed himself to hope that it could develop into something mutual and permanent. But now he was about to force Harvey to define their relationship, and he was scared out of his mind.

He parked and locked up his bike with shaking fingers. It took every ounce of strength he had within him to step into Pearson Hardman and push the elevator button up to Harvey's floor. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and hop on his bike, ride to his old house, curl up into a ball in the tree in his old backyard, and pretend that he was 10 years old and his biggest problem was that his mom would yell at him for not making his bed. Instead, he stepped out of the elevator with his head held high. The floor was basically deserted. He saw a janitor vacuuming in the associate bull pen, but that was about it. He forced himself to walk directly to Harvey's office and he realized with a strange and nauseating mix of relief and trepidation that the man in question was sitting in his office and poring over paperwork.

He tapped on the door and pushed it open without waiting for permission to enter.

"Mike?" Harvey said in surprise, doing a double take when he looked up and saw who it was. He instantly stood and came over to where Mike was nervously lingering in the doorway. He looked like he was unsure of how to greet Mike, and settled for a quick and jerky pat on the back. "How are you doing? What are you doing here this late at night? Did you ride your bike? Is your grandmother okay?"

Mike blinked at this rapid-fire stream of questions. "No—er, I mean, yes. Grammy's fine," he said.

Harvey looked unsatisfied with this answer. "Are you sure you're okay? What's going on? Not that I'm not glad to see you, of course, it's just kind of an odd time at night, that's all."

Mike shifted from foot to foot nervously, wondering how to begin this conversation.

"Are you hungry? Do you want some chips? I think someone bought the kind that you like and left them in the break room," Harvey said. Mike frowned in his direction, wondering why Harvey was being so talkative and _nice. _Normally he was just kind of sarcastic and aloof, but here he was, babbling on as though he were afraid Mike would up and run at any second. He wasn't sure what this meant, but he noticed that Harvey looked tired and strained. Mike wondered if it was because of a case, or if there was any possibility at all that he had been having as hard of a time dealing with this separation as Mike had.

"Nahh, I'm fine. I had a big dinner," Mike said, biting his lip and preparing to dive in. Once he started this, there was no going back. He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm just here because, well…can we sit down? We need to talk, Harvey."

* * *

"Okay," Harvey responded cautiously, slightly taken aback by the uncharacteristically serious expression on Mike's young face. _He looks tired, _Harvey thought. _And thin. _But then he reminded himself that Mike's appearance and well-being were none of his business anymore. "Take a seat," he said, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

Mike sat down in the chair in front of Harvey's desk stiffly, looking so tense that Harvey was worried he would sprain something just sitting there.

They sat in silence for a moment, Mike staring very determinedly at the seams of his jeans. Harvey frowned in confusion—wasn't Mike the one who'd said he'd wanted to talk? "Er—what was it that you wanted to discuss, Mike?" Harvey prompted, figuring he'd help Mike get started since he seemed unable to do it himself.

Mike drew in a deep breath. "Did you get Grammy's message?"

Harvey quickly wracked his brain before remembering the message Edith had left him earlier that day. He had called her in the morning to ask after Mike, after finally arriving at his wits' end with the whole situation. He was sick of sitting around and waiting for Mike to come to him—he was loathe to actually admit it, but he somehow found himself _missing _the kid, god dammit! And it made it hard to concentrate on work when he had all these...feelings about things, so something needed to be done immediately. And if he wanted something done to fix this situation, he could see that he'd have to do it himself. So he'd given Edith a call and left her a message, and she'd called back while he was in a meeting and left him a message saying that she didn't know why Mike hadn't come around and that she'd talk to him about it. She'd ended it by inviting him over for dinner sometime in the near future.

That had been a few hours ago, and Harvey had been steadily working since then, his phone tucked away on silent mode in his coat pocket by the door.

"Yes, I got it," he said, wondering where Mike was going with this. "Why? What's up?"

"Well?" Mike said expectantly. "What do you think?"

Harvey frowned, feeling like he was missing something important here. Mike looked positively _stricken _with fear, and he was alarmingly pale. Harvey also thought he could see the kid's hands trembling slightly on his lap. _What was going on? _Why was Mike so wired up about a simple dinner invitation?

Did he not want Harvey to come to dinner next week? Or did he want him to, but was afraid that Harvey would say 'no'?

Honestly, at this point it could go either way. Harvey, for all his self-professed ability to read people, often found himself baffled by fickleness of the teenage mind. Half the time it felt like Mike was pushing him away, and the other half of the time it felt like Mike wanted to cling to him like a small child. And in terms of this dinner invitation issue, he knew he'd have to step carefully. He had a feeling this would be a defining moment in the future dynamic of their relationship: was Mike trying to ask Harvey to play active role in his life and come around and spend time with him? Or was Mike trying to tell Harvey to not come to dinner and to stop calling and trying to reach out to him? Harvey had no clue what Mike wanted from him; if he wanted to push away or cling. So he fumbled around for a response that would fall on safe middle ground.

"What do I think of the message? Well," Harvey said as slowly as possible, feeling very much out of his depth. He didn't know what Mike wanted him to say, so he couldn't help but feel like each word of his answer was a tentative footfall in the volatile mine field that was their relationship right now. He tried to gauge Mike's reaction to each word as he spoke in order to see if he wanted Harvey to come to dinner or not, but Mike seemed determined to avoid Harvey's eye line.

"Well, to be honest, I don't know. I've got a lot going on these days," he said, thinking of the miserable Nantes trial and his futile attempts to convince Ralph Kafka to talk about Tanner and Hardman. "But if you really wanted me to, I guess I could probably make time for it." There. That seemed fairly neutral. Harvey had made it clear that he was open to the option of coming over for dinner, but if Mike seemed really resistant to the idea, Harvey could blame being busy at work and have an easy excuse out to spare Mike the discomfort of telling Harvey to piss off. But to be honest, Harvey really hoped that Mike wanted him to come to dinner, and he hoped this wasn't Mike's subtle way of kicking him out of his life.

However, Mike didn't seem at all pleased with this response. In fact, he looked absolutely crestfallen. _Oh, _Harvey thought, _he really doesn't want me to come to dinner at all. And he probably doesn't want me poking around his life anymore. In fact, he probably came over here to tell me to stop calling him and bothering him, and now I'm making it difficult for him to do so in a socially acceptable way. _He was surprised by how painful these revelations were.

"Or not," he said hastily, even though it was hard to do. He just wanted Mike to be happy. "No, the answer is no," he said quickly, hoping that this would make it easier on Mike. After all, the kid probably didn't want to have to outright tell Harvey to get lost, and Harvey could take a hint.

But to his surprise and dismay, Mike's face crumpled even further, and Harvey was startled to see his eyes welling up with tears.

Alarmed, Harvey fumbled to rectify the situation. "Or yes!" He exclaimed quickly. "Come on, it's okay, Mike. Please don't be upset; I could definitely make time for it if you wanted me to." He would happily reschedule all the meetings and trials in the world and go to dinner at Mike and Edith's every single night if that's what it took for Mike to stop crying and re-find his usual carefree smile.

"No," Mike sniffled pathetically, standing and making for the door. "I don't want you to do it because _I _want you to, Harvey. I want you to do it because _you _want to. It's okay, though. I understand and I'll be alright with Grammy in Florida, really—" Mike broke off on a sob, and Harvey stared at his distraught former ward in utter bewilderment.

"Mike, wait! We need to talk about whatever this is—" Harvey started to say. He tried to place a calming hand on Mike's shoulder, but Mike wrenched away and took off at a run.

By the time Harvey's mind caught up with his body and he chased after Mike, Mike was standing in an elevator and the doors were rapidly closing. Harvey tried to dive for the 'down' button, but he was too late. He could hear Mike's muffled sobs as the elevator began its descent, and he ran a hand through his hair shakily, wondering what the _hell _had just transpired_. _

He obviously needed to find Mike and comfort him and fix whatever terrible thing he had just done to make Mike's expression look like that. It should have been a criminal offense for someone to break kind, dorky, gentle Mike's heart like that, and to know that Harvey himself had somehow done it despite his best intentions…well, his fingers twitched with the urge to punch a nearby wall and take out his anger at himself on the plaster.

But it wouldn't be of any help to Mike if Harvey broke his hand. Instead he forced himself to reign in his fury at himself and he went back to his office, determined to figure on what on earth had just happened to upset Mike to that degree. It was clear that they'd had some sort of miscommunication, but over what? Maybe he'd misunderstood Edith's message about dinner?

So he dug his phone out of his pocket and woke it from sleep mode. He felt his heart plummet when he realized that he had a missed call and a message from Edith from less than an hour prior. So _that _had been the message Mike was talking about, not the one about the dinner invitation! Harvey felt the urge to bang his head on his desk. All of this—whatever _this _was— could have been avoided if he had _just checked his phone and listened to his messages. _

With trembling fingers, Harvey pressed the button to call his voicemail and he listened to Edith's most recent message, feeling sicker and sicker as the words registered in his mind.

"Oh god," he breathed when the message was finished playing. _What had he done?_

He had completely misunderstood every single word of his conversation with Mike. He thought back on his words to the teenager, and tried to imagine them in the context of what would have been going through Mike's mind at the time. From Mike's perspective, he had just put his heart on the line and asked Harvey what he thought about letting Mike live with him again during the school year. And Harvey's response to that:

_"Well, to be honest, I don't know. I've got a lot going on these days...but if you really wanted me to, I guess I could probably make time for it."_

Jesus, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this guilty.

Mike had come here in what obviously was a show of great courage to ask if Harvey wanted Mike to live with him, and Harvey had sat there like an idiot and basically told the kid that he'd do it if Mike wanted him to, but not because _he,_ Harvey, wanted to. And he had insinuated that he didn't have time for Mike, and that his work was more important than Mike, like Mike was some inconvenience that he had to re-schedule his life around. And _then, _because he apparently hadn't done enough damage already, he had gone and full-out rejected the kid, who was already emotionally fragile after all he'd been through in his life.

And all because he thought they were talking about a stupid dinner invitation.

"Shit," he said, standing and pulling his jacket on. He vowed that he'd never put his phone on silent ever again."Shit, shit, shit." This constant back-and-forth between the two of them clearly wasn't working. They needed to talk, and desperately. Because Harvey couldn't bear the thought that Mike was out there somewhere in the cold, alone and thinking that Harvey didn't want him.

He had to find Mike and set him straight on the matter, once and for all.

* * *

**Okay, I'm sorry for leaving you on another cliffhanger, and an angsty one at that. The boys aren't very good at communication, are they? But hopefully everyone is reasonably satisfied with this plot twist... throughout the process of writing this story, a lot of people have said that they basically want me to "get rid of Grammy in a gentle way" so I didn't want to kill her off or anything. Instead I'm sending her to live on a beach in Florida XD Now we'll just have to see what Harvey's next move is...  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**Well, here's the final chapter! I suppose I should post a warning for angst followed by extreme and embarrassing amounts of fluff XD Hopefully this won't be _too _corny, though. But I make no promises ;D  
**

* * *

**CHAPTER 19:**

_When the truth is that I miss you_

_Yeah, the truth is that I miss you so  
_

_And I'm tired_

_I should not have let you go  
_

_So I crawl back into your open arms  
_

_From "Warning Sign" by Coldplay  
_

Mike knew it was a bad idea to go to Harvey's.

But for whatever reason, that was where his traitorous hands steered his bike to after he fled from Pearson Hardman. He spent the first few moments of the aftershock pedaling furiously, blindly traveling no direction in particular, hoping he could ride fast enough for all the bitter thoughts chasing after him to fall behind and disappear, like vapor floating off and away from a steaming drink and disappearing into the atmosphere forever. It helped a little to give in to the frenzy of his emotions; it dulled the pain of his heart to focus purely on physical sensations—the only sound the sound of blood pumping furiously through his ears, the only sensation the sensation of his legs pumping and his lungs burning, the only thought in mind the thought _pedal harder, pedal harder, pedal harder. _It drowned out the little voice in his head that was screaming _not good enough for Harvey, not good enough, not good enough…_

But after awhile, the anger and adrenaline subsided, and with it, his raging energy abruptly disappeared. He staggered off his bike, his legs suddenly shaky and weak, and curled up on a park bench, regretting his Tour de France-like biking pace. He spent a few minutes blinking fiercely at the stars and bravely pretending that he was fine, but after awhile he could no longer deny that that his lips were trembling because he was upset and not just because he was cold, and that his eyes were watering not because of the sudden wind blowing clouds overhead, but rather because of excess emotion. It was then that he finally fully gave in to the tears that he had been fighting back since Harvey had rejected him. He found himself unable to care anymore that he was fourteen and that he wasn't supposed to be crying as he allowed tears to stream down his face unchecked, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He wrapped his arms around his torso in a protective self-embrace because he felt like he was falling apart inside and that if he just sat there without trying to hold himself together, he'd simply disintegrate into tiny, broken pieces that would scatter and drift away like the snowflakes that were beginning to fall all around him, lost forever in a vicious and unyielding swirl of piercingly cold and lonely wind.

When his weeping finally subsided, he came to realize that the temperature was rapidly dropping as his sobs dissolved into shivers. He knew that he should get inside somewhere warm, but the grief coursing through him made him strangely numb to the sensation of the cold and he found that he didn't really mind it all that much. He was oddly tempted to just lie back in the snow and soak in the soothing weight of the silence that had fallen over the world as the snowflakes fluttered around overhead; to allow its heaviness to pour over him and anchor him to the ground and keep him from coming apart at the seams. But Grammy probably wouldn't be too pleased with him if he got hypothermia or frostbite, so he forced his protesting muscles to move into a standing position and he clambered wearily onto his bike and began to ride.

God, he couldn't believe how stupid and naïve he'd been to think that there was a real chance of Harvey actually wanting to take him back in. It had clearly been a lot of wishful thinking on his part over the past few months. He had obviously misinterpreted all of the signals he thought he'd been getting from the Harvey and had subconsciously projected his aching desire to have a parent onto the closest person available. He hadn't taken into account the fact that Harvey probably didn't feel that same gaping hole inside his chest that Mike did; that Harvey probably had no desire to have a son the way that Mike wanted a father-figure…and really, why would he? Harvey was just some 30-year-old guy who was really focused on his career. He didn't even have a wife, so why would he ever feel the need to have a kid—much less a fourteen-year-old kid? He was at a completely different point in his life than Mike and he had completely different priorities.

So he couldn't blame Harvey for choosing his work over Mike—after all, why wouldn't someone as legally gifted as Harvey want to put his work before anything else? Mike knew that he had taken up a lot of Harvey's time and energy during the three months he'd lived with him—he'd needed rides to school; medical care when he was sick; comforting in the middle of the night…the list went on and on. Mike was probably holding Harvey back by distracting him and forcing him to waste his rare spare moments doing menial domestic labor.

At least Harvey had had the decency to admit up front that he wasn't sure if he could commit to taking Mike in due to being busy with work. Because the thing was, if Harvey _did _take him in, he'd do the thing properly, because that was just who Harvey was. He lived by some weirdly strict moral code. So if he took Mike in, he'd be fully committed to it and he'd make all sorts of sacrifices to ensure that Mike was receiving the best life possible. And Harvey clearly wasn't sure if was ready to make that commitment or agree to make those sacrifices. Which was _fine, _Mike told himself firmly. At least he'd admitted it now instead of taking Mike in and making Mike feel guilty for being a burden later, which was basically what the Jensens had done.

It was just that…well, there were times when he had been so _sure _that Harvey cared beyond just keeping Mike alive and relatively happy for the three months. There were things he had done that had gone above and beyond the call of duty; like buying tickets for a spring break trip to Washington, D.C. or buying Mike a jacket or even simple things, like taking the time to sit and watch TV with Mike or throwing an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair every once in awhile. He should have seen it coming, he really should have. In his experience, stuff like this was always too good to be true. He had just gotten so swept up in the fantasy he had concocted that he had foolishly allowed himself to hope for something that was unrealistic, and now he'd have to pay the consequences.

He sighed and parked his bike before suddenly realizing that he was right in front of Harvey's apartment building. He groaned, wondering why his subconscious mind was torturing him like this. But for some odd reason, he locked up his bike and entered the apartment building and made his way up to Harvey's apartment, moving on autopilot as though drawn up by a magnet. It was as though he couldn't make himself turn around and leave.

He used his copy of the key to get inside and was relieved to find that Harvey wasn't there. He had probably gone back to work after Mike had left. Mike felt his breath hitch and a lump swell up in his throat as he breathed in the comforting, familiar smell of the apartment. His feet still moving as if of their own accord, he walked into the family room and sat down on the couch, flicking a lamp on the lowest setting and flooding the room with dim, mellow light. He stared unblinkingly out the glass windows at the snow as if hypnotized and fought back a yawn. He didn't know why he'd come here, and it was starting to seem like a dumb idea—what if Harvey showed up? He probably wouldn't be too pleased to find Mike breaking and entering. He'd probably want his key back.

But for now, Mike thought, he'd allow himself a minute to pretend that this was his home and that he belonged here. _God, he had wanted Harvey to want him. _He hadn't even realized how much he had wanted it until he'd been turned down. But for a minute, he allowed himself to slide into a lying down position and close his eyes, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his shoes, pretending that he had a right to be here in Harvey's space; pretending that Harvey's wanted him here on this couch and in this apartment, safe and sound. He blinked blearily as eyelids grew heavier and heavier. He'd just close his eyes for a minute and keep pretending, and then he'd be done for good with this deluded fantasy of his. He'd allow himself 60 seconds to lie here peacefully and then he'd get up and walk out of Harvey's life and he wouldn't come back. He'd move to Florida with Grammy and he'd get over this and he'd learn how to be happy again.

He'd do it all in a minute, really, he would. He looked at the strange shadows the lamp was casting on the ceiling, his vision fuzzy and unfocused as sleep tugged at the corners of his mind. He squinted at the images floating above him one last time before closing his eyes and drifting off, just _for one minute. _

And as he gave into the gentle darkness lapping at the forefront of his consciousness, he thought for a split second that the curvy shapes on the ceiling might have spelled out a word that looked an awful lot like "home."

* * *

Harvey was _not _panicking. He wasn't.

Well…maybe just a little bit.

Because the truth was that he had looked for Mike _everywhere, _and to no avail.

There was absolutely no sign of the kid in any of the obvious places— Harvey had gone to Mike's school, to the park by his school, and even by Trevor's house. He had gone to Mike's old childhood home, thinking he might get lucky since that was where Mike had run to last time, and had spent an embarrassingly long time creeping around the backyard and calling Mike's name in a stage-whisper, all the while feeling like a complete idiot. Apparently the people who now lived there owned a dog, because he had been chased out of the yard by a very vicious poodle.

After an hour of futile searching, he had sheepishly called Edith when he had realized that it was entirely possible that Mike had just gone home to his grandmother's and hadn't actually run away. But Edith hadn't seen him, and Harvey felt bad afterward for worrying her—he had tried to play the situation off as no big deal at first, but since she knew what Mike had gone to Pearson Hardman to talk to Harvey about, she had immediately figured out that Mike had gotten upset by Harvey's answer and run off.

Harvey had hastily reassured her that it had all been a colossal miscommunication and that he would find Mike and set things right immediately and she had been, as always, far too kind and understanding with him.

"I trust you to find him, Harvey. Try not to be too hard on yourself, dear. I'm sure Michael is feeling hurt right now, but once you explain everything it'll be alright. You'll see," she had said confidently, but he could hear the undercurrent of concern in her voice and it made his stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt.

"I'll let you know as soon as I find him," Harvey had vowed.

After that fruitless and discouraging phone call, he decided that he might as well let Ray off for the night.

"Just drop me off at the apartment, Ray. I'll get my car and go back out to look for him again by myself," Harvey said tiredly, tugging at his tie to loosen it.

"Are you sure, Harvey? I don't mind staying out to help you," Ray said kindly. Harvey knew that Ray was fond of Mike, and he felt a surge of gratitude for his driver's willingness to go beyond his duties as Harvey's chauffeur and transcend into the realm of friendship.

"No, that's okay. Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure your wife and daughters want you home now. It's getting late," Harvey said, glancing at his watch. It was almost 10 o'clock. And it was freezing cold out and had started snowing. And Mike was out there somewhere, all alone.

Having this knowledge at the forefront of his mind made him move quickly when Ray dropped him off at the apartment. He jogged quickly into the apartment building and pressed the button for the general elevator—it would be faster since he didn't have to unlock it, unlike the private one. When he got upstairs, he just had to grab his car keys and then he would head back out for however long it took to find Mike.

He was so focused on completing this task as quickly as possible that it took him a minute to realize that the door to the apartment was unlocked. He had just zoomed across the threshold on autopilot when the fact that he hadn't had to use his key registered, and he froze momentarily, pondering the implications of this mysteriously unlocked door. Then he realized that there were lights on in the den and frowned in thought, trying to be as quiet as possible while he worked this one out.

He was pretty meticulous about making sure that he locked the door and turned out all the lights in the mornings when he left for work, so either someone was breaking into his apartment right now, or someone who had an extra copy of the key was in here. Which meant, he realized, that either a burglar, Donna, Paul, or…Mike was in here.

It probably wasn't Paul—Harvey couldn't fathom a reason why his little brother would just show up in New York without calling him and letting him know that he was coming first. And nothing in the kitchen or the foyer looked tossed around or out of place, so hopefully it wasn't a robber.

Although, to be completely honest, he'd take a robber over Donna's presence right now. At least he stood a chance of surviving an encounter with a thief. Donna, on the other hand, would murder him in cold blood if she learned of Harvey's stupidity tonight, no questions asked. No, he prayed it wasn't Donna. He didn't think he could handle her disappointment and anger at the moment, and hoped for the sake of his own safety that she'd never find out what an idiot he'd been over this whole ordeal. Though he probably did deserve to have his ass kicked, to be fair.

Which left Mike. Except he couldn't fathom a plausible reason why Mike would come _here_ of all places after being cruelly rejected by Harvey. He had expected that Mike would never want to see him or talk to him again, and the sentiment seemed completely rational and appropriate. Although it had been completely unintentional, Harvey _had_ made a royal mess of things and this wasn't going to be easy to fix. Any anger Mike felt over the situation was totally justified…so why would he come here?

Hoping against all hope, Harvey crossed his fingers that Mike was in his family room instead of some random violent criminal and crept bravely forward into to den area. He felt all the tension drain out of his body when he saw a familiar mop of blond hair peeking over the arm of the sofa and he allowed himself to sag against the wall in relief for a second before quietly slipping over to the couch.

Mike was sprawled out, fast asleep and looking much younger than fourteen. Harvey felt the last vestiges of panic and fear dissipate when it became clear that Mike was fine, but he felt a pang upon noticing that his eyes, even when closed in sleep, looked puffy from crying. The kid had flung off his jacket and tossed his worn converse halfway across the room, as per usual, and he was shivering slightly in his sleep. His clothes and hair looked slightly damp, probably from the snow outside.

Harvey sidled into his bedroom, stopping to turn up the heat on the way, and shut the door. He quickly called Edith and told her that he had found Mike and that he was perfectly fine.

"Why don't you just keep him there at the apartment tonight, Harvey?" Edith suggested. "I don't want you driving over here in this nasty snowstorm to bring him back, and I think the two of you could use some uninterrupted time to talk and work this all out."

So that was why Harvey went searching through his drawers to find a decently small-sized t-shirt that Mike could change into. Mike had accidentally forgotten a pair of sweatpants that had somehow gotten mixed in with Harvey's pile of laundry, so he could wear those as pajama pants.

Now Harvey was faced having to decide whether or not to wake Mike up. On one hand, the kid could probably use the sleep. He had looked tired earlier at the office, and the cowardly part of Harvey wanted to avoid dealing with the mess he had inadvertently created for as long as possible.

But at the same time, he figured it would probably be better to just sit down and have this talk with Mike now before they suffered any more disastrous communication errors. Harvey was afraid that if he let Mike sleep through the night, he'd wake up and disappear before Harvey got up in the morning and had a chance to set the record straight. Not to mention the fact that, knowing Mike's luck, he'd probably get sick if he slept all night in cold, damp clothes.

So Harvey went back into the den and sat down on the coffee table opposite where Mike was sleeping on the couch. He gently shook the teen's shoulder until Mike stirred and blinked fuzzily. Mike pushed himself up on his elbow and into a semi-sitting position upon realizing where he was and stared at Harvey with wide blue eyes, his expression unguarded as he struggled to wake up and regain his bearings.

The openness of Mike's gaze was the reason that Harvey knew the exact instant when Mike remembered what had happened earlier that night. As soon as the memory filtered through his mind, his blue eyes narrowed and filled with so much hurt and sadness that it made Harvey feel like all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Mike suddenly struggled into a fully-upright sitting position and surged to his feet. "I have to go," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep. He refused to meet Harvey's eyeline.

"Mike, wait," Harvey said, reaching out and gently grabbing a hold of Mike's wrist before he could run again. "We really need to talk about what happened. After that you can be as angry as you want. But I'm asking you for a few minutes. Just let me explain, okay? Let me fix this."

Harvey couldn't remember the last time he had felt this nervous.

"Fine," Mike grumbled sullenly after a moody pause. "But I'm only staying for a few minutes until the snow lets up. And that's just because I don't want to have to ride my bike back to Grammy's in this weather. It's not because I care about what you have to say."

"That's fine," Harvey said calmly. He'd take what he could get in this situation—and while Mike was by no means enthused about staying, he'd at least agreed to listen for awhile and that was a start. "Why don't you change into dry clothes? You left a pair of sweatpants here and I laid out a t-shirt for you to borrow."

"Fine," Mike muttered and he skulked off to the bathroom to change, closing the door a little harder than was strictly necessary. Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered for a minute why he was trying to convince a typically saturnine teenager to like him. When Mike reemerged, looking substantially more comfortable, he flopped back down on the couch and Harvey took a deep breath and sat down on the coffee table across from him again. Time to sort this mess out.

* * *

When Mike woke up, it was to someone shaking his shoulder in a most annoying and persistent fashion. He blinked several times to clear out his gritty eyes, vaguely wondering why he was so cold and damp and why his head ached like he had spent a day out in the hot sun and neglected to drink water.

He managed to fully his eyes after a minute of blinking and the first thing his gaze focused on was Harvey's face, which was rather close to him. He looked around in confusion, rubbing at his still-sleepy eyes and wondering how he had wound up at Harvey's apartment.

Then it suddenly all came crashing back to him.

_Oh. _Right. He was cold from riding his bike through the snow like a madman, and his head hurt from crying.

He leapt to his feet, suddenly desperate for escape. He shouldn't have come here. He didn't want to face Harvey; didn't want to see him or look at him or talk to him, because it just reminded him of what he didn't have and what he'd never have. Not to mention that it was just plain embarrassing. Harvey probably wanted Mike to stop pestering him, and yet here he was sleeping on the man's couch.

"I have to go," he croaked, turning on his heel and looking for his jacket and shoes. He frowned upon seeing that he'd have to walk past Harvey to grab his shoes and resolved to just ride his bike home barefoot. It was too risky to go back for his chucks—sometimes sacrifices had to made for the greater good and at this point, it was every man and shoe to himself.

He was ready to bolt until he felt a gentle hand encircle his wrist.

Harvey looked up at him, his eyes strangely beseeching. And he wasn't sure why, exactly, but he heard himself groan and agree to stay and listen to Harvey. He was really just prolonging the embarrassment for himself by staying here, but he couldn't say no to Harvey when the normally-composed lawyer sounded so entreating.

So he changed into the pajamas Harvey had found for him and flung himself back down on the couch as though he didn't care about what Harvey had to say. He sighed, remembering back to the first time he had been in this room sitting on this couch, so unsure of how the following months would shake out. He supposed that it was fitting that this thing with Harvey should end in the exact same place where it had started.

"Well, go on and say what you need to say, then. I was having a very nice nap before you woke me up and I'd like to get back to that," Mike huffed loftily after a moment of silence, immediately feeling a twinge of guilt for his rudeness. He didn't know why he was being such a brat…probably as some sort of defense mechanism. He didn't really like to self-psychoanalyze, but he could admit to himself that it was far easier to be brusque and dismissive than to be open and vulnerable, and he had already been plenty open and vulnerable in front of Harvey tonight, with disastrous consequences. So he crossed his arms and attempted a menacing scowl in Harvey's direction.

"Mike," Harvey said, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. He paused for a long moment. "Oh, Mike," he said in a low, sad tone of voice that made Mike's stomach wobble strangely. He reached out as though to lay a hand on Mike's shoulder but seemed to think better of it when he saw Mike's wary expression. "I've been—I've been an idiot. I don't even know where to begin."

"The beginning is usually a good place," Mike said with a roll of his eyes, struggling to maintain his surly façade. Seeing the genuine remorse on Harvey's face made it hard to keep being a bastard, but he had to protect himself from getting hurt somehow, didn't he?

"Look, first things first," Harvey said. "What happened back at the office—that wasn't what you were thinking. I just need to clear this up first. I didn't get your grandmother's message about moving to Florida until _after _that conversation. I thought we were talking about a completely different voicemail, which is why I was so confused. But I swear, Mike, I had no clue that you were planning to ask me about staying here at the apartment. I was answering a completely different question than the one you were asking," Harvey was speaking in his best convincing-the-jury-of-something voice, his hands gesturing emphatically as though trying to prove the truth of his words to Mike.

Mike frowned, mulling over this revelation. "Wait…what do you mean? What voicemail _were _you thinking about then?"

"I thought you were talking about the message that your grandmother had left me earlier that day. I had called her to, er, ask if you were okay since you hadn't been coming to the office—" Mike blushed at being called out on his truancy and Harvey looked uncomfortable to admit that he cared enough to wonder where Mike was "—and your grandma called me back and said she'd talk to you about it and she invited me over for dinner. After that, I had my phone turned on silent and it was in my jacket pocket the rest of the afternoon while I was working. I didn't get the other message until after you'd left the office."

"Oh," Mike said quietly. He desperately wanted to believe that this was all just a misunderstanding and that Harvey was about to say that he wanted Mike to live with him any second, but he had learned that it was dangerous to hope for such things. He'd believe it when he saw it. "Then what question did you think I was asking you, if not…the whole Florida thing?" He swallowed, unable to bring himself to talk about his crushed dreams in more specific terms than referring to them as 'the Florida thing.'

"I thought you were talking about the dinner invitation," Harvey said, chuckling at the apparent humor he found in confusing a dinner invitation for a please-adopt-me-I'm-a-traumatized-orphan invitation. Mike, on the other hand, had been starting to recover from the rejection he'd experienced and felt like he had just received a sucker punch to the heart all over again. And it was even worse this time.

"You don't look pleased," Harvey said, sounding surprised. "Mike, don't you understand? It was all just a miscommunication!"

"_Pleased?!" _Mike exclaimed. He was going for strong and angry, but really his voice sounded embarrassingly shrill and close-to-tearful. "How is that any better? In fact, it's _worse. _You essentially told me that you weren't certain if you could make time in your precious schedule to come to _dinner _for one night! How is that supposed to make me feel hopeful at _all?! _If you can't fit me into your schedule for dinner, obviously you don't have time for me to live with you!" He was shouting now, twisting his fingers together furiously. He refused to meet Harvey's eye line and he refused to feel embarrassed for revealing so much, for admitting that he really just wanted to live with Harvey again. He held on to his anger, allowing that to take him over and shield him from having room to feel sadness or shame.

"Mike! Mike, calm down," Harvey said. He tentatively reached out and captured Mike's hands in his own to stop Mike from wringing them together so aggressively. He squeezed gently before letting go and Mike's hands dropped back into his lap, unmoving and strangely warmed from Harvey's touch. "I was just saying that because I didn't know what you wanted from me. I was being purposefully vague since I didn't know if you wanted me to come to dinner or not; if you wanted me to try to be a part of your life anymore. I know I'm bad at communication; I know I should have just asked you straight out what you wanted me to do. Hell, we should have had this conversation ages ago, kid, and I'm sorry that we didn't because now you're the one paying the consequences."

"Oh," Mike said quietly. "Well, of _course _I want you in my life, you idiot. It's you who—who—" Even though Mike had already cried more than he believed possible in the past few hours, his eyes prickled again. "—who doesn't have time for me," he whispered. "But that's okay!" He sniffled pathetically, feeling like a 5-year-old girl. "It's okay, really, Harvey. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I shouldn't have come and tried to pressure you into taking me in again. Like I said, I wouldn't want you doing anything just because you feel obligated to or because you think it's the right thing to do. So don't feel bad. I'll be fine. Grammy says the weather in Florida is really nice, and maybe I'll finally get to go to Disneyworld." Mike tried to say all of this in a cheery tone, but his performance was marred somewhat due to the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Mike," Harvey said, his voice more serious than Mike had ever heard it before. "Mike, you're still misunderstanding me. When I said all those things about maybe not having time to come to dinner…I was just trying to buy time and figure out what you wanted from me and do what I could to make you happy. I was answering based on your reactions. If you seemed like you didn't want me in your life anymore, I wouldn't have interfered with that, because I want what's best for you.

"But as to what _I _want…" Harvey trailed off. He seemed to steel himself and commit to whatever it was that he was about to say. "You know what I would have said if I was answering for myself, Mike?"

Mike bit his lip, suddenly uncertain as to whether or not he was ready to hear this. "I would have said yes, and then I would have showed up for dinner every single night, regardless of how socially unacceptable it would be to freeload like that. And it wouldn't just be because your grandmother is an amazing cook—it would be because it's too damn quiet around here and I get lonely eating dinner alone. Three months, Mike. It was only three months, and now I don't know how to live by myself anymore," Harvey admitted, and he said it in such a straightforward, serious manner that it was hard for Mike to doubt the genuineness of his words. Mike looked away, his vision blurred from the wet, hot emotion filling his eyes.

"And do you know what I would have said back at the office if I had known that you were asking me about moving back in when your grandmother goes to Florida?" Harvey asked. One of his thumbs came up to gently wipe away a stray tear that was sliding down Mike's cheek. Mike's breath hitched in an odd, broken sort of way.

"No," he whispered.

"I would have asked how soon you could move back in," Harvey said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, his eyes crinkled at the corners in a manner that Mike knew denoted that he was talking in a heartfelt way. "Mike, the truth is that I _do _want you to live with me. I know I'm not good at talking about these kinds of things, and you probably won't hear me say this again—but damn it, Mike. You came in here with those ridiculous shoes that you threw all over the place for 3 months and you sang too loudly in the shower every morning and you stole all my Harvard clothes and you were always just _there, _depending on me and trusting me and I thought I didn't want it; and I didn't know what to do with it— and now since you've left nothing is the same anymore. So come back home, would you?"

Mike sat perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. He couldn't believe what Harvey had just said—he…he _wanted _Mike to live with him? Mike could scarcely bring himself to believe that Harvey really meant it, and he found that all his old doubts suddenly came flooding back—he was scared senseless that Harvey would get sick of him after awhile and he'd regret his choice but by then it'd be too late to do anything. He couldn't do it again—he had come so far and lost so much. If someone broke his trust one more time, he didn't think he'd ever be able to put it back together again. And he wasn't sure if he could chance that happening. He got the sense that this was going to be a defining moment in his life and he really just felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to decide whether or not it was worth to take the leap across the chasm to the other side— if he jumped, would Harvey be there to catch him?

Suddenly Mike lurched to his feet, unable to bear with Harvey's close proximity while he struggled to sort out his feelings on the matter. "You don't mean that," he said, his voice tight. He strode over to stand in front of the glass wall of the apartment, hugging himself and watching the snow swirl outside.

Harvey was still perched on the coffee table. "Yes, I do," he said, his voice as smooth and confident as always.

"No, you don't! You'll regret your decision after awhile and you'll just wind up hating me for being a burden," Mike exclaimed earnestly before realizing what he had just confessed. He hated talking about stuff like this, hated to admit that his time with the Jensens had left him fragile and incapable of believing that people wanted him around. He began counting skyscrapers to distract himself.

"You are not a burden to anyone, Mike. I don't know what lies those _people _who were your foster parents told you, but they were wrong," Harvey bit out fiercely. He stood up and came to stand next to Mike at the glass wall, mirroring Mike's stance.

"You don't understand, Harvey!" Mike exclaimed in frustration. "You might think that you mean all of this stuff now, but you'll just change your mind someday when you have a son of your own and then you won't want me around. It's easier to just end this before that happens—"

"Mike," Harvey interrupted. He turned to face Mike, his head tilted in confusion. "Who said anything about me wanting a son of my own?"

"Well, someday you'll get married to some beautiful rich lady and then you two will be rolling in dough together and then you'll want a proper son to carry on the Specter name," Mike said, rattling off the scenario he feared above all else—being replaced by Harvey's own flesh and blood. He plowed right ahead, figuring that it was best to do it quickly; like ripping off a band-aid. "And so then you'll probably have a baby and you wouldn't need me then because you'll have your own kid to play catch with and teach how to be a lawyer and how to shave and—"

"Mike," Harvey said, his voice immeasurably gentle. "Why would I ever need another son when I already have you?"

"—and your son would get into Harvard, obviously, and he'd probably be the star of the baseball team there and— wait, what?" Mike turned to Harvey in disbelief as the lawyer's words registered, hardly daring to believe his ears.

Harvey smiled and suddenly reached out, his hand brushing Mike's hair off his forehead and off to one side, smoothing it down in a careful, almost tender way, deleting any evidence of the unruliness that had resulted from Mike compulsively running his hands through it in a stress-related manner over the past few hours. "I said, why would I ever need another son when I already have you, Mike?"

"Do—do you really mean that?" Mike asked softly, petrified that he was misunderstanding Harvey…or worse, that he was about to wake up and find that this was all a dream.

Harvey nodded solemnly. "Do I seem like I normally go around spilling my feelings to teenage boys?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

And Mike couldn't help but laugh at that, because it was such a familiar and Harvey-ish response, and _god, he had missed this. _Suddenly he wasn't so afraid anymore—after all, this was _Harvey. _He knew Harvey. Harvey wouldn't lie to him or hurt him intentionally.

"So, does this mean—?"

Harvey nodded. "Come home, Mike," he said, smiling in a warm, genuine way that Mike had seldom seen before.

Mike's extremely macho response to this was to fling his arms around Harvey and burst into tears for the umpteenth time that night. God, he really was turning into a girl.

He thought he might have heard Harvey murmur something like "it's okay," but he was probably imagining it in the midst of a wild rush of emotion because Harvey Specter most certainly did not Murmur Things Reassuringly.

"I can't stop crying," he choked out in a sort of strangled laugh after a minute, resting his cheek against Harvey's shoulder as his sobs gradually died down. Harvey carefully gathered him closer as though he were something precious and breakable, and Mike closed his eyes and listened to Harvey's heart thumping steadily in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this safe. He buried his face in Harvey's neck, a few final tears spilling over as the full weight of the idea that he was wanted— and perhaps even _loved— _by Harvey Specter began to sink in. He wondered how on earth he'd survived three years without parents.

When he had finally gotten a hold of himself, he pushed away and gave a watery chuckle. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do you remember what you said when I first moved in? About how there'd be no gratuitous affection at the Specter apartment? I guess that one didn't work out so well for you tonight."

"Yeah, well—" Harvey looked slightly sheepish, but didn't look like he regretted allowing Mike to cry all over him, much to Mike's secret delight. "For punishment you'll just have to make us both grilled cheese sandwiches. I'm starving."

Mike grinned. "Me too," he said, suddenly realizing it was true. He hadn't really eaten much lasagna—and what he had eaten he'd spat out after he thought Grammy and Henry Morris had kissed—not to mention, he'd barely touched the red velvet cake. All of a sudden, his appetite returned to him at full strength.

So he made his famous grilled cheese sandwiches and they sat on the couch and watched Star Trek and it was just like good old times. Except better.

"Your bed has fresh sheets on it, you know," Harvey said, when the last episode was over. Mike was dangerously close to sleep—he had drifted off on Harvey's shoulder briefly before waking again and swaddling himself in a blanket and curling up in a ball on his end of the sofa, completely boneless and relaxed.

"I'll just sleep here tonight," Mike said, barely coherent—or rather, it came out more like "mmmphhhuhh," but he was pretty sure Harvey got the message. His eyes drifted shut slowly.

"Goodnight, Mike," Harvey said quietly. Mike vaguely felt someone adjust the blanket around his shoulders and ruffle his hair, but he was too far gone to really notice, other than to feel a dim sense of warmth blossom inside his chest at the soothing gesture.

He drifted off on the couch in the same position he'd been in just a few hours prior when he'd accidentally fallen asleep. But a lot had changed since then— same spot, different Mike. He wondered about the shapes on the ceiling this time around. But then he realized that he didn't need to look for words on the ceiling anymore. After all, he didn't need the shadows to tell him what he already knew.

He was finally home.

* * *

**Good lord, I've turned into such a sap XD But I hope you all enjoyed it and that it made up for all the angsty torture I put you guys through the past few chapters. And the angst that the actual show is currently putting us through! There'll be a brief epilogue and I'll probably post that sometime next week. Once again thanks so much for reading! :D**


	20. Epilogue

**Well, here's the epilogue! It was harder to write than I had anticipated, so unfortunately it might be a bit choppy. I kind of wish I could just do what they do in the movies where they just show a picture of the character and flash a sentence or two saying 'this person went on to do this and this person did that, etc.' but here's my attempt at weaving all that information into a proper epilogue with at least an attempt at a storyline XD Oh, and I'd really recommend giving the song a listen. It was a big inspiration for me writing this story :D  
**

* * *

**Epilogue:**

_There is a house built out of stone_

_Wooden floors, walls, and windowsills _

_Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust_

_This is a place where I don't feel alone_

_This is a place where I feel at home_

_-From "To Build a Home" by The Cinematic Orchestra_

**Approximately 8 months later:**

"Blow out the candles and make a wish already!" Paul shouted through his cupped hands, making it sound somewhat like a message from a loudspeaker overhead. He looked around innocently as though searching for the source of the mystical voice. "Wow, who said that? You had better listen, Mikey. Sounds serious," he said in his normal voice.

"Paul Specter, you leave him alone and let him blow out the candles in his own good time!"

Mike smiled as he listened to Donna and Paul bicker behind him. "I'm just trying to think of a really good wish!" He exclaimed defensively.

"Well, sometime _before _your sixteenth birthday would be nice," Paul grumbled half-heartedly behind him.

"Mike can blow out the candles whenever he wants to, Paul," Harvey said mildly, smacking his brother upside the back of the head and elbowing his way through the small crowd surrounding Mike. He came to stand next to his now-fifteen-year-old ward, bearing plates and silverware for the cake. "Besides, I don't even like ice cream cake. If we leave the candles in for long enough, it'll melt and then we'll have to buy an actual cake. So take your time, Mike."

"I would have to disagree with you, Harvey, dear," Grammy decided to add her two cents in. "Henry and I would like to make it back to Florida before the first snowfall, please, Michael."

"Grammy! It's only October 7th!" Mike pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "You were all singing 'Happy Birthday' together peacefully a minute ago; why is everyone arguing now?"

"Because we want less talking and more blowing out candles!" Paul shouted helpfully, letting out a strangled yelp when Donna's dangerously high heels somehow wound up treading on his foot.

"Well, maybe if everyone would be _quiet_ then I'd be able to make a wish," Mike said, frowning pointedly in Paul's direction. He closed his eyes, determined to think of a really good one.

He realized that he hadn't had a cake or made a wish last year and he smiled nostalgically as he remembered his fourteenth birthday, when Grammy had fallen and he'd been so sure that it was going to be an awful year. After all, it certainly hadn't started out well, and at the time of Grammy's accident he had felt more alone than ever. But as to how it had turned out…well, now he really couldn't imagine a better ending to what turned out to be an incredible year. He felt so fortunate that almost everyone important in his life had been able to make it to his fifteenth birthday celebration—Grammy, Henry Morris, Paul, Donna, Rachel, and Harold— they had all shown up to his and Harvey's apartment that evening, intent on having a good time.

Henry Morris and Grammy (who was now Edith Morris) arrived first out of the guests, bearing gifts and Mike's favorite type of ice cream cake. They had spent the last few months in New York and now that the weather was starting to get cooler, they were planning on leaving the coming weekend to go to Florida, where they would be spending the rest of the fall, the winter, and the spring. Mike was sad to see them go, but watching how happy Grammy had been the past few months during her marriage to Henry Morris had reaffirmed Mike's belief that Florida was the right place for her to be right now. He had done an internship at Pearson Hardman over the summer, which meant that it had made more sense for him to crash in his room at Harvey's some nights, but he had tried to spend as much time with Grammy and Henry Morris as possible. It had been both strange and wonderful, having two homes where he was always warmly welcomed, but now he was excited to be back to living with Harvey full-time.

Rachel and Harold had shown up next. The two of them had decorated his locker in a most garish fashion that morning, much to Mike's unfailing embarrassment and secret delight. He had arrived at school that afternoon and found Harold with his hair sticking straight up from static as a result Harold from blowing up the excessive amount of balloons and cramming them into Mike's locker. Rachel had greeted him with a container full of Oreo balls, and Mike had promptly eaten 7 of them and then almost vomited on his chemistry teacher's desk, but it had been worth it.

The two of them were amazing friends to him, especially since he was only going to high school during the afternoons now. He had been worried that they would have a hard time maintaining their friendship now that Mike spent his mornings in a special program for gifted youth at NYU taking undergrad classes to work on getting his bachelor's in English and Criminal Justice. But so far, so good. He was going to work on that for the time being before heading on to law school when he turned eighteen, and although it still wasn't very challenging, it was much better than the base drudgery of his secondary school classes. He still took some classes at the high school during the afternoons, but it was mostly for fun and so that he'd still technically be a high school student, which was necessary in order for him to be eligible to be a member of the speech and debate team with his friends.

He missed Trevor, of course, but Trevor was where he needed to be in Montana and he was doing surprisingly well—he had come back to New York to visit his parents for a week in June and had wound up staying with Mike and Harvey after he got into a fight with his parents over all the time his dad spent in jail. Trevor seemed different now after spending a year with his older sister Sara—he was more mature, more responsible, and less angry with the world and everyone it. Mike had hardly been able to believe the change in his best friend.

"_I really like living with Sara and Nate," _Trevor had told Mike one night as they were watching a movie. _"And my little nephews really look up to me. I don't want to this mess up—I want to find a way to pay Sara and Nate back for all they've done for me and for taking me in when I needed it. Nate thinks I can get a football scholarship to a good college if I keep my life together, so I'm trying my best. I just want to make them proud, you know?"_

"_Yeah," _Mike had said, glancing over at Harvey. _"I know."_

Mike wasn't terribly shocked that Donna and Harvey had invited all these people over—the two of them had spent the whole week with their heads together, whispering about some big secret, so he had expected that they were planning on doing something for his birthday— but Paul's presence at this little party had been the real surprise of the day. They had all just finished eating dinner when Mike had heard the apartment door open. Being the closest to the door, he had gotten up and gone to the foyer to see who it was, only to be tackled to the ground in a bear hug by Paul. After recovering from the shock associated with being suddenly grabbed, knocked over, and having his hair ruffled within an inch of his life, Mike had been overjoyed to see the man he considered a sort of cross between an older brother and an uncle. Paul was in town because his now-fiancée Alicia was speaking at a conference, and neither Mike nor Harvey had seen him since the summer when the three of them had gone on a camping trip in upstate New York. Unfortunately Paul hadn't had a chance to eat before his flight to New York, so he had been clamoring obnoxiously for cake the whole time he'd been there.

Speaking of cake…

Mike opened his eyes, suddenly realizing that he'd been lost in thought for quite awhile. The candles were now burning dangerously low and wax was starting to drip on the cake. He had wanted to come up with a really clever wish, but he honestly couldn't think of anything he really wanted. Everything he needed he had right here—food, shelter, people who cared about him—what did he have to wish for?

"Mike, if you don't blow out those candles soon I swear that I'm going to tell Harvey about that time on the camping trip when you—"

_I wish that this year can be as good as last year!_

Mike thought as quickly as possible and blew out the candles with lightening speed. He cleared his throat. "No need to tell Harvey anything about that, Paul."

"Tell me about what?" Harvey asked, frowning. "What did you two do on the camping trip?"

"Nothing! Nothing, let's cut the cake. Paul's starving, we should feed him," Mike said hastily. Paul smirked and accepted an extra large slice of cake, looking pleased with himself.

When the cake had been served and eaten and the gifts had been opened, everyone started drifting home. Rachel and Harold left first since they both had homework to do before school the next day. They all winced as they could hear Rachel's new car screeching away down the street— she had just gotten her license and she wasn't exactly the best driver.

"Can you believe that this kid can start driving now, Harv?" Paul asked, ruffling Mike's hair as the faint noise of Harold shouting in fear echoed down the block.

"Ohh, no. He's not getting anywhere near a car anytime soon if I have anything to say on the matter. We have plenty of time before he turns sixteen to start worrying about that," Harvey said, shaking his head while Mike pouted on the couch.

"Come and live with your cool uncle in Chicago, Mikey, and I'll teach you," Paul said, grabbing his jacket. "Anyway, I have to go meet up with Alicia at our hotel. See you guys tomorrow for dinner!"

Once they all finished cleaning up the kitchen, Donna, Grammy, and Henry Morris headed out and it was just Harvey and Mike left behind. The two of them took their usual seats on the couch to unwind and watch TV for awhile.

"Did you have a good birthday, kid?" Harvey asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly and loosening his tie. He had had a busy few months—ever since Jessica had forced Hardman out of the firm, he had been putting in extra hours to ensure that the firm kept its good reputation and all its clients.

"Yeah, it was great!" Mike enthused. "Thanks for inviting everyone over and taking off work early. Did you know Paul was coming? Was that the big surprise that you and Donna were whispering about all week?"

"Well, that was one surprise. There's something else I have for you, now that you mention it actually," Harvey said, standing up and disappearing into his bedroom. Mike shrugged and pulled his favorite blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around himself to wait for Harvey.

Harvey came back a minute later holding a manila envelope and looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

"I probably should have talked to you about this before I went and did it," he said, handing Mike the envelope. "I don't even know if you wanted—well, anyway, just open it and we'll see what you think, I guess."

Mike frowned nervously and opened the envelope, drawing a stack of papers out. He scanned them quickly, grateful for his ability to speed read. He froze, his mouth dropping open when his gaze fixated on the words '_Harvey Reginald Specter requests permission to petition the state of New York for the adoption and permanent custody of Michael James Ross.'_

"You—you want to adopt me?" Mike asked, vaguely realizing that the papers were shaking slightly in his trembling hands.

"Well—only if you want me to, Mike. Your grandma and I both signed all the necessary papers and now it's up to you to decide. I'm already your legal guardian and you spend most of your time here anyway, so—"

Whatever Harvey wanted to say next was cut off by Mike flinging himself at his guardian and hugging him. "You don't have to do this," Mike mumbled into Harvey's shoulder. "You've already done so much for me, Harvey."

"But I want to, Mike," Harvey said, raising his hand to wave off Mike's noble attempts to protest. "I want to, because I know you have doubts about me changing my mind and not wanting you around anymore," Harvey said. Mike blushed and tried to draw away in embarrassment, but Harvey gently took hold of Mike's chin so that he couldn't look away. Mike had thought he was doing a good job of hiding all the secret fears he had about Harvey regretting his decision to let Mike live with him, but apparently Harvey had seen right through him (as he always did, quite honestly).

"This is a permanent living arrangement, Mike," Harvey said, his voice serious and his eyes warm. "It doesn't matter to me if you mess up or make mistakes or get in trouble; I have no intention of ever changing my mind and kicking you out, and if this is what it takes for me to prove to you that I want you here at home with me, then yes, I want to adopt you. Why not make it official, right?"

Mike stared at Harvey, slightly in shock and hardly able to believe his own luck. He looked around the apartment, staring at the walls that had come to hold everything meaningful to him over the past year. He smiled as his gaze alighted on the one photograph that Harvey had reluctantly allowed Donna to frame and set out amidst all of Harvey's strange modern art. It sat on top of a bookshelf that Mike and Harvey had painstakingly built over the summer and showed the pair of them standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Harvey's arm slung around Mike's shoulders. They were beaming and they looked like any other father-and-son duo, just visiting Washington, D.C. for spring break vacation. Mike remembered how nice it had been in D.C. where nobody had known them and everyone had just assumed that Harvey was his father. And if Harvey officially adopted him, he realized with a warm thrill, it could _always _be that way because he'd actually belong to Harvey then and he'd have a right to introduce himself as Harvey's son.

Mike was sometimes overwhelmed by the ways that his life had changed in the past year. The Mike Ross of a year ago was completely different from the Mike Ross of today. Old Mike Ross probably would be out smoking weed with Trevor right now, drowning in the constant memory of all he had lost and going nowhere fast. But the Mike Ross of today, who had Harvey Specter in his life, was attending college, had a real family and friends, and was on the right path to becoming a lawyer like he had always wanted.

And he knew that there would still be days when he climbed out of bed battling his doubts and uncertainty about his place in Harvey's life. And there would be nights when he woke up in tears because he just missed his parents and felt like he'd never really get over losing them. And there would be other days when the memory of how the Jensens had treated him ensnared him with its sharp claws and refused to let him escape from its dark storm of pain and anger at the world.

But Harvey had been doing a pretty amazing job of battling these demons right alongside Mike for the past few months and filling up the bleak emptiness that sometimes swept over Mike and threatened to suffocate him. And if Harvey adopted him, he knew that he'd never have to face any of it alone ever again.

He had found a home and a father, and the future ahead looked bright. So he threw his arms back around his guardian—no; his _dad—_and gave the only answer that he could ever imagine giving to Harvey's question.

"Yes."

* * *

**THE END! Holy crap, I can't believe it's the end o.O You guys have been so great about putting up with my verbose author's notes, so here's just one more if you don't mind. First I just want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, favorited, or even just lurked. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed reading this. So thanks a lot; you guys are all the best. This has been such an awesome learning experience for me, and I think my writing has much improved in the process of writing the 371 pages that are this story (or at least I really hope so, I was re-reading the first few chapters last week and I felt like I was just kind of cringing and peeking through my fingers the whole time XD)  
**

**Okay, a lot of people have been asking me if there's going to be a sequel. The short answer: I don't know at this point XD The long answer: I'm actually leaving in a week to go study abroad in Europe for a semester, and I won't be back in the US til late June/early July. So I'm reluctant to commit to a sequel at this point because I have no clue how much time I'll have to write while I'm over there. I think I'm just going to be taking it one day at a time for awhile as I adjust to speaking and thinking in another language, so at this point I'm HOPING to get some writing done soon (I'll go insane if I quit cold turkey XD) and I'll certainly still be lurking around the fandom and reading, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep. So I'm thinking I'll probably post a series of one-shots as a sequel of sorts, phoenix on cloud nine style :D That way I can just update when I have time and you guys won't be waiting for months for me to finish up a certain plot line. And if anyone feels inspired to write one-shots or a story based on my version of teen!mike, feel free to borrow this universe and write, by all means!  
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**So yeah, I guess that's about it from my end for the time being. Hopefully I'll be able to get one final thing up before I leave next week. If you have any ideas/requests for a sequel, let me know. Thanks for all the support!  
**

**Much love**

**-Rachel  
**


	21. Chapter 21

Hey everyone! The first chapter of the sequel to 'To Build a Home' is up if anyone is interested in reading it; it's called To Build a Family— I put it up a few days ago and some people were asking if there was a sequel/recommending that I let people know that I had posted it, so I just thought I'd officially let you guys know. I don't really know the netiquette associated with this kind of thing, so hopefully this isn't annoying that I'm just posting an author's note. Have a nice day :D


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